Snowfall: A Nuclear Story
by Jacob Sailer
Summary: Chapter Four Summary: Going further south along what was formerly Denali National Park, Jake partakes in a hunt. There he will find the enemy waiting for him, but will also find an old ally from the past. But with that ally comes questions. Questions that relate to his quest to find his father.
1. Prologue: Dec 1st, 1945

SNOWFALL

By Jacob Sailer

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><p>Prologue<p>

December 1st, 1945 /Over the Alaskan Island Kinotue

Operation "Snowfall"

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><p><strong>The Second World War. The conflict had official ended some two hundred and four days earlier with the ironic suicide of a man who had attempted to take the planet and make it his own. Nearly a month after, the last player of the Axis army: the Japanese, surrendered after two of their cities were vaporized and the rest of their country had been devastated by the <strong>_**firebombing campaign**_**. The war was over, had been over for months now. Yet some things just refuse to die.**

**Officially, the repot for tonight if compromised was an experimental test flight for new equipment in the extreme arctic north storms. However the true purpose of the half dozen **_**Douglas DC-3 transport planes**_** was more sinister than any could imagine. On another information report lost away in the military archives of the Pentagon, the men manning the transports were members of the **_**56nd Experimental Airborne Division**_**, testing newer and more improved parachutes. This is of course, as one would realize another lie. Rather they had been members of a secret military program shared amongst the allies, who had been fighting a **_**secret war**_**.**

**The war was a truly a technological arms race. The Axis had developed truly remarkable and dangerous devices, capable of what even their creators did not know. The Allies had been behind them for over the course of the conflict, but now the situation had shifted. The power base for the degenerate and evil experiments had been all but destroyed. The Nazi's had gotten desperate.**

**The atmosphere inside the planes was both a mixture of fear, yet grim determination. The air was cold to the touch, purminated by the stink of both man and motor fuel.**

_**"Equipment Check!" **_**An American, a sergeant first class from the Marine 1st Parachute Battalion, barked from the front of the plane. Chiseled face, heavy brow and in desperate need of a shave, his calm yet wearied eyes moved down the members of Bravo Company. The Paramarine eyed each and every soldier inside the flimsy fuselage of the plane that had been originally flying over the skies of Eastern Europe. Some of Paratroops were Marines like himself, while others were a combination of 82nd Airborne and No. 11 Special Air Service Troopers. Some he had fought alongside with over the past four years, others were replacements.**

**An example of the latter was the 2nd Lieutenant, his boss, sitting across from him. He was new, although not in the sense that many would've thought. The twenty-six year old had survived the disastrous Operation Market Garden, and was without a question tougher than most. But he hadn't been in Sicily in nineteen-forty one or Dreslue in forty three. The man he was replacing had bought it over the skies of Berlin less than six months prior, his chute ripped apart by machinegun fire and his reserve failing to open.**

_**"All checked!" **_**another voice called from down the row, a British colour sergeant who had been with the team sense the Bulge.**

_**"Weapons check!" **_**the 2nd Lieutenant called, quickly followed by the clatter of magazines and bulb pups. Seconds tick by as the squadron made it way over the insertion zone, despite the fierce winds battering away at the sides of the plane. The pilots were some of the best ever fielded, but even then the turbulence was nauseating.**

_**"Lieutenant," **_**the two way radio crackled, **_**"Drop zone in five mikes."**_

_**"Roger, keep us on course as best you can."**_

_**"Understood. These cross winds making our advance treacherous so expect tough skies."**_

_**Don't we always, **_**the Lieutenant thought bitterly to himself.**

_**"Understood." **_**He replied calmly, and then he held his hand up for the squad to see. Then he brought his finger to his watch and then held up all of his fingers. They nodded, understanding the signed command.**

_**"So, Doc," **_**a staff sergeant seated next to the entrance called, **_**"What do you expect us to find here in this god-forsaken storm."**_

**There was general murmur of agreement. Then a figured stood amongst them all in the red hue. He was the only one not wearing a uniform.**

_**"Hopefully, Sergeant," **_**the man replied in an almost bear tone, yet sounding highly educated, **_**"The true end to this war."**_

**Every set of eyes turned to stare at the speaker himself. He was like a bronze statue come to life; large and looming, with a heavy beard of auburn red that hid a face set wide in a permanent grim expression. He stood an easy six-feet-two inches in his heavy flight boots, and his generally winter equipment with the addition of the flight suit gave him an imposing dominance of the tiny space. This was Doctor Benton Marshall, an experimental physicist known only to some of the highest military and government members. And of course, to the men before him, who all looked upon him with a great awe of respect.**

_**"When our teams in Berlin began to catalogue all wonderwaffe that we recovered from their main base at Der Turm, it was discovered that a number of both material and personnel were discovered missing." **_**he continued, pausing to allow the extent of the information to set in with the paratroops he'd be leading for what he hoped would be the last time, **_**"It has taken nearly four months to track their movements to this island."**_

_**"This is not a standard snatch and grab, boys," **_**the sergeant first class carried on, **_**"aerial reconnaissance of the island has revealed a heavily fortified compound in the center of the island. We should expect the worst kind of resistance."**_

_**"We have reason to suspect," **_**Benton spoke again, bringing the point of the mission to the present, **_**"that the last remnants of the Spezialwaffen may have relocated here. To what end, we are not sure."**_

_**"Our orders," **_**the Lieutenant added and finished the quickened re-briefing to a close, **_**"is to recover all essential personnel and equipment, if possible. If the objective proves too hazardous, we are to ensure that said essentials are rendered inoperable."**_

**The paratroops nodded; doubtless the same briefing was being given to the rest of the troops on aboard the rest of the squadron. Then the overhead lighting changed to green, and the pilot's voice crackled once more in the Lieutenants radio:**

_**"We're over the drop zone, sir. Good hunting."**_

_**"Roger." **_**The Lieutenant replied, **_**"Set your radios to frequency 93.5."**_

_**"It's too quiet," **_**the British corporal mumbled as he began to strap his flight ring to the over head cord, **_**"almost always flak on the landing."**_

_**"This is doubtless a trap." **_**another soldier replied.**

_**"Think of it this way," **_**Benton's signature bear tone boomed out, **_**"Traps close both ways."**_

**Any further talk was stifled as the Sergeant first class approached the door and unclamped the locking slab. Hands went to goggles and short breath flights masks. Pulses trembled and eyes flared as the men one by one ducked out through the door on what many hoped, would be their last combat jump. A split second later, a company strength line of green fabric domes slackened and drifted in the night skies. The execution would have to be perfect or the parajumpers would land in ocean.**

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><p><strong>2153 hoursNorthern end of the Island of Kinotue**

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><p><strong>Bravo Company was on the move, but the heavy downpour was making the advance incredibly treacherous. The heavy mud sucked to their boots like tar and the rain was beginning to soak into their clothes. Nonetheless, the paratroopers carried onward up the mountainside. They had a time table to keep.<strong>

_**"Bravo Company, this Alpha, check in, over."**_

**The Lieutenant reached for his radio and clicked the return toggle.**

_**"Bravo, reporting. Fifteen mikes from objective, rain making descent difficult, over."**_

_**"Roger, Bravo. Delta and Foxtrot are in position at the mouth of the valley. Other companies moving to objectives, over."**_

_**"Roger, Alpha. Check in at objective, over."**_

_**"Roger, Delta. Alpha out."**_

_**"Alright men, let's pick up the pace."**_

**The six companies had landed on different points of the island. Alpha and Charlie companies were advancing from the east along the valley bluff to provide mortar and rocket support, while Delta, Echo and Foxtrot were to move into the lip of the valley. Their objective was to engage the main enemy force, allowing for Bravo to move in through from the north via the mountains. Benton was keeping the pace next to the Lieutenant, leading the way up the path.**

_**"When this war is over," **_**the Lieutenant spoke out the side of his mouth, allowing him to keep his gaze on the trail that rapidly turning into quick sand, **_**"what are your plans for the end."**_

_**"Probably back to Los Alamos," **_**the older man grumbled, shaking his head as he did, **_**"back to the lab coats and the pet monkeys."**_

_**"You don't sound like you're looking forward to it." **_**The Lieutenant fixed him with a sympathetic, yet confused stare. Benton returned his with one of weary and exhaustion.**

_**"You've been on this team for three months, so you don't know me very well. I like being in field, not in a lab."**_

_**"I apologize sir, it's just—"**_

_**"Ah, you think all scientists are like Einstein and his lot. Well I'm not."**_

_**"I take it you don't like him much either," **_**the Lieutenant chuckled with a sly grin. Benton couldn't help but smile at the younger man's supposed innocence. It wouldn't last very long after this.**

_**"The man", **_**he began with an exhausted sigh, **_**"is brilliant, don't get me wrong. And he sure as hell knows how to mix a good White Russian. But the man is an arrogant son of bitch, and he and everyone else are naïve."**_

_**"Naïve?" **_**now the Lieutenant was truly confused, **_**"They built the bomb didn't they?"**_

_**"Oppenheimer wants to give the details to the Soviets. Believes the only way to keep us from using it is if the other side has one too. Einstein, Feynman and Enrico want to destroy the device itself."**_

_**"Heh, if they truly know what the other side has been building, they'd think twice about that party line."**_

**It was truly an irony. The greatest minds the world had ever seen, who had constructed the greatest weapon ever envisioned, were totally oblivious to the true war that lay just beneath the covers the conflict. This thought truly amused the Lieutenant as he attempted to keep the pace as the heavy rain turned the hillside into a chocolate sludge.**

_**"Move in."**_

**It had taken an extra five minutes to cross up and over the crest of the hill than planned, but then again the team had accounted for the rain turning the ground into mud so think that it stuck to their pants up to their knees. Quickly and quietly however, they reached the top of the hill. The Lieutenant pulled his submachine weapon closer to his chest, the wooden stock held snug against the fold of his arm, as well as his tactical vest. He looked across the pathway to Benton, who surprised him by wielding a Winchester 1897 Trenchgun. It was truly odd that the Doctor, a scientist, was wielding a weapon usually issued to non-commissioned officers. The crackle of his radio, however, prevented him from probing further into his own, private thoughts:**

_**"Bravo, Check in. Over."**_

_**"Bravo, reporting. Approaching objective, preparing for descent on your mark, over."**_

_**"Roger, Bravo. Start sign is Marco, over."**_

_**Polo, **_**the Lieutenant thought to himself as he suppressed a chuckle; gazing over the heavy, hilly terrain masked by the storm before making his reply.**

_**"Roger, timetable, over?"**_

_**"Twenty mikes, Alpha reporting out."**_

**With that he gestured, over to the Sergeant. A split second later, he was by his side, ready for orders. The Lieutenant then signed the rest, splitting the company in two and sending them down the hill to the objective, quietly and on guard. From this point forth, they were going to be moving into the perimeter of the compound, they would have to move like **_**ninja's **_**the rest of the way. Quickly, but quietly the company made their way down the route into the foliage and hills to the target zone.**

_**No sentries, no automated security devices. Not even any of those damn Hollenhunds. This is not like them at all, **_**Benton thought to himself as he crept through the trees alongside the rest of the commandos. He had faced them countless times, and if anything was to be certain, they were always well prepared when it came to security measures. There were none to be seen, and his overwatch Sensorium hadn't even picked up single contact, counting out any Sappers or hidden booby traps. That truly made him worry, especially now. They hadn't even known about the facility until less than a week ago.**

**He instinctual turned his head to the other commandos.**

_**Them too, huh? **_**He thought bitterly to himself, noticing all of their collective, concerned faces. He tried to shrug it off, push it to the back of his mind, but something just kept on nagging at him. Something was indeed wrong, wrong about this entire operation and the island itself. He always frustrated him that these thoughts, these questions always hit him when it was too late to answer them safely from afar. He was always being forced to confront them in the cold, in the fight, in the danger.**

**Why the hell the most would wanted me in the world want to hide off the coast of America, why would they make it so obvious? His inward thoughts seemed to want to scream at Benton for not thinking about this sooner, but finally Benton just seemed to just growl back at his thoughts:**

_**"Enough." **_**he actually said aloud to himself. He pushed on, holding the shotgun a little closer to his chest as he made his way down the hill. Across the route, the Lieutenant was having some very similar thoughts. This was his first mission with the team, the fresh officer. But he had fought the Wehrmacht at Market Garden and Bastogne; he knew they were professional to the point of an art. Why would they leave themselves vulnerable like this?**

**He felt a hand embrace his arm, and he turned to find the Sergeant behind him.**

_**"Best not to think about it, sir. Distracts you from the point of the mission."**_

_**"Thank you, Sergeant. You feel it too?"**_

_**"They're not the Wehrmacht, sir. Or the SS for that matter. Don't bother trying to understand the Spezialwaffen, they're not even human."**_

_**Not even human, **_**the Lieutenant thought to himself, the thought creeping across his mind like a silent vermin, **_**what is it like not to be human?What is like to fight a being not human, yet is a man?**_

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><p><strong>0013 hoursCentral highlands of the Island of Kinotue**

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><p><em><strong>Oh shit, <strong>_**Specialist First Class Stef Mickeals swore to himself as he stared down at the compound below him in the valley of the highlands through the scope of his Needler sniper rifle. He readjusted the night optics, he had to be sure. The second and third time confirmed his originally observations.**

_**"Lieutenant! Master Sergeant!" **_**he called into his radio, stopping short of screaming out his anxieties into the hand held, **_**"Quick you need to see this."**_

**Being the companies scout sniper, it took the two men (or three men if one counted Benton) a minute to reach the Specialists position. Quickly, they went prone and made their way to the sniper as he peered down into the valley. The compound came into view, massive in area but surprisingly all of the buildings in sight were one store quick install facilities.**

"_**This is nothing like the facility at the Der Turm." **_**The First Sergeant mumbled at its rather unimpressive sight. The facility known as Der Turm or The Tower had been the size of a small trading town common in Northern Germany. However, the place looked like an industrialists dream with its massive factories, plume stokes and nearly a dozen railways all coming together at the center of the installation. At the center was the reason for its name; a single, tall building that had resembled an aluminous tower of stone and metal.**

**It had been the primary facility for the **_**Spezialwaffen des Gruppe**_**, a special wing of the Waffen-SS responsible for special weapons development. By 1944, it had become clear that the group were no longer under the yoke of Hitler's crazed yoke. The Fatherland had been lost, but their goals were still easily achievable. Now their surviving remnants were no trapped on this stormed soaked island of nothing in the middle of the sea.**

"_**What did you see Specialist?" **_**Benton inquired, his bear tone resonating into a still audible grumble despite his efforts to whisper.**

"_**In the court yard, next to the biggest building."**_

**The three men, almost by simultaneous precision, drew their binoculars and peered through out the camp. Benton scanned the perimeter of the camp, noting the many perimeter sections and checkpoints, as well as the many formations of soldiers in their black uniforms and gray helmets moving equipment from building to building. He also noted the armored **_**sturmtroppen **_**standing vigil, easily towering over the mere men. Then a crackle of light disrupted his nightvision, turning the green starlight into a blinding white. Instinctively Benton closed his eyes, avoiding the worst of the blinding light.**

_**What the hell was that? **_**he wondered to himself as he recovered.**

"_**Who's the guy in the overcoat?" **_**the Lieutenant suddenly inquired. That hit Benton and the Master Sergeant both as a sudden and dreaded shock. Quickly the moved their gaze back to the courtyard, where the source of the light had appeared and then as quickly disappeared. There, among the personal honor guard of the towering, armored **_**Sturmtroppen **_**stood a single, tall man wearing the dark uniform of an officer. When he turned his head to the view of the powerful binoc's, Benton's breath was caught in his lungs.**

"_**He can't be—he died a year ago." **_**the Master Sergeant gasped at the view.**

"_**I know," **_**Benton replied, shaken considerably, **_**"I killed him. I put three bullets in his chest."**_

"_**Who is he?" **_**the Lieutenant asked again.**

"_**Karl Johann Steiner, Obersturmbannführer of the Waffen-SS, top advisor to the Fuhrer himself and the commander of the Spezialwaffen Sturmtroppen Corp."**_

**Benton watched his mortal enemy, with a mixture of outright hatred and curiosity. Despite the rain, Steiner stood proud, his hands clasped behind his back and his head held high. He had a long angular face and nose, jet black hair that was shaved at the bottom in typical curtained military style and skin so pale he looked sickly. Beneath his chin rested the signature Iron Cross, so proudly resting there despite the many innocent who had died for him to obtain it. He reclapsed his hands, drawing back his long black overcoat, revealing an ornate saber laying in its scabbard. Benton instinctually touched the side of his chest, where the hated bladed had so nearly ended his life a year prior.**

**Then there was another flash of light, though not as intense as the previous one. The observers eyes then moved past the man who Benton called **_**Snake **_**to the devices behind him. It was a series of disks that spun in a blur, generating an immense amount of energy, producing enormous balls of electricity that shook the air with a crackle of ozone.**

"_**What are they powering?" **_**the Specialists inquired, eyeing the device with his long, caseless cartridge rifle.**

"_**Something very big," **_**Benton replied, and then he reached into his upper vest clasp and activated his radio, **_**"all companies, priority one target. Callsign: Snake."**_

**There was a lengthy silence, no doubt the men having a considerable difficulty comprehending this dreaded piece of information. Then the radio crackled:**

"_**Priority one understood. Acquired orders, over?"**_

**Benton looked across at the other men, and then stared back at the monster down blow them:**

"_**Priority one: Termination, over and out."**_

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><p><strong>They advanced down into the marsh on their bellies. This was the most crucial moment of the operation. At a snail's pace they advanced toward the security perimeter, ever conscience of the threat of a spotlight. The men's eyes constantly drifted the Sensorium scanners, hoping and waiting for the inevitable blip to appear on the sensors screen. Nearly a mile away, on the foothills surrounding the valley, the weapon companies awaited the signal.<strong>

**The commander, a thin little man from Brooklyn had his eyes to his binoculars, watching the movement of Bravo as they crept to their objective. The binoculars had thermal vision mode, turning the entire valley into shades of blue and red. The commandos had heat dispensers strapped to their vest, giving an appearance of a slow moving burning white shade. The rest of the targets were reds, even the armored **_**sturmtroppen. **_**He then drew his gaze away from the objective and two the thirty plus men waiting on the hill beside him.**

**Most were weapon specialists, assembling their 40mm mortar kits, methodically separating their fragmentation away from the Blast Shells designed to punch through heavy armor. Others were readying their rocket launchers, flipping on the auto trackers and thermal view, their loaders loading their inflight guidance ordinance or Fire-Bat's as many preferred to call them. These were long and heavy weapons, easily the length of a man at full stance. They had punch; however, enough to rip open a tank and come out the other end. However, they had only been recently reversed engineered from captured **_**Raketenwerfer, **_**and this was only the second time the men had had the pleasure of using them.**

_**If only we'd had had them back at the Bulge, **_**the little man thought bitterly to himself. Then his radio squawked and crackled, the volume only audible to himself:**

_**"Marco. Repeat: Marco. Out."**_

_**Here we go again, **_**he thought quietly to himself, allowing himself a small grin as he signaled the men into position.**

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><p><strong>He allowed himself a smile of delight, proud in its form as he watched the <strong>_**Stromdurchlicht**_** flicker to life with the radiance of the gods themselves. His bright blue eyes seemed to flicker with madness, cold and calculating, as the energy crackled with streaks of electricity, perhaps captured by unseeminglessly endless power.**

_**"Obersturmbannführer!" **_**he heard his rank called from behind himself. He knew by the pitch, and volume, that it was the**_** Kapitän**_** of the **_**Maschinenbau**_**. The little man, as brilliant as many, was clumsy and questioning to the plans ahead. The snake like man felt a cold delight as he pictured slicing the queer man's throat with the tip of his saber, but he pushed the thought aside. He needed the **_**Kapitän **_**now more than ever.**

_**"Obsterur—"**_**he repeated again, only to be stopped cold as the Stiener seemed to appear out of nowhere, and was hoisted of the ground with as little effort as retrieving a shopping bag. He felt ice cold fingers dig into his throat, felt the air in him starting to drain, the dark beginning to slip around him. A moment followed and he felt the ground, wet and sticky, hit his face.**

_**"Report, Kapitän!" **_**Stiener's snarl, cold and refined, seemed to strike the air dumb and blind, and then releasing it as he did. The **_**Kapiän **_**struggled to his feet, the air almost refusing to return to him, but he carried on, his eyes never leaving his near-be-killer's back.**

_**"The Facilities are prepared, and the central control grid is operational. We are ready."**_

_**"Good," **_**the **_**Obersturmbannführer **_**replied, perform a smartly about face, no less than a foot from the cowering man, which brought a sickening smile to his long face, **_**"I must speak with our Japanese… confidants."**_

**He then gestured to the **_**Sturmtroppen **_**and pointed to one of the facilities behind him.**

_**"Take him below. Insure he has his much needed sleep."**_

**As one of the armored soldiers took the shivering **_**Kapitän **_**by the arm, he clicked his boots together and bowed his head:**

_**"Ja, Herr Obersturmbannführer."**_

**Then Steiner turned on him, hands once again clasped around his back as he marched to the other side of the compound, his malicious anger replaced by his proud calmness. All around him: the survivors of the last remnants of a once proud army. Proud still, he knew.**

_**This was the end, **_**Steiner thought to himself with a sense of gleeful purpose, **_**No allegiance to a madman this time. No parties, no ties, just our goals to be achieved by the fruitful means.**_

**Then he thought back, even further, some eleven years prior when he had met a younger Adolf, during that time in Kursk. He had been motivated, driven. Now he was just as dead as the smear of blood on the wall of his bunker, as cold as the oldest civilizations. Gone, and soon to be forgotten. Now, he was no longer under the whim of petty bureaucrats who only cared for their own advancement, not for the goal of his dream.**

**He was the last surviving of the **_**Oberkommando **_**and he was glad of it, but it had taken much of his own sacrifices to reach this point. He felt the place where the bullets had struck him, shuddered at the pain that he'd felt, and the cold darkness that had followed. He was not a religious man, didn't much believe in the idea of a god, but he had still asked that one question that had to be answered:**

"_**Am I in Hell?" **_**he had asked himself, and to the darkness. Of course the answer still lay beyond him, as he was inexplicably pulled back from the darkness. He had died, he knew, and his wounds had healed in less than three days. He knew he wasn't human, not anymore. One had only needed to look upon his own skin to know that.**

**Finally, he reached the otherside of the camp, his **_**Sturmtroppen **_**marching in step behind him, there heavy boots echoing the damnable weight of them. Three scientists lay ahead of him: Hoshino, Kojima and **_**Kyaputen **_**Katoka of the **_**Doragon Shaki. **_**They were among the last surviving members of **_**the**_** Japanese equivalent of an advance science group. He actually respected them more than he did his former superiors, so much that he bowed respectfully in their presence and added with a **_**Konbanwa.**_

"_**Steiner," **_**Katoka began, curtful in his fluent German, **_**"When will we be allowed to join the remaining on the otherside?"**_

"_**Soon, Katoka. We are making the final preparations as we speak."**_

"_**I would hope, Herr Steiner. The Emperor did entrust us with ensuring the last of the bloodline remains… out of reach as you would say."**_

"_**I understand, Kyaputen. Rest assured, your goals shall be met alongside our own."**_

"_**I still do not understand why we are so close to the mongrel homeland!" **_**Hoshino spat angrily, **_**"We leave our own vulnerable on this insignificant island!"**_

"_**That is the point, Yujin." **_**An arctic smile crossed Steiner's slender face, adding further intimidation to his already wolfish eyes. Yet before he could speak any further, he heard it. It was a single ping of displaced air, not even audible to the most keen human ear. He dodged. Time slowed down to milliseconds, time enough for him to hear a splat and the growing crimson on Hoshino's forehead as he slowly fell backwards.**

**This ended when he hit the ground. Then he heard more of it, a flush of air far off, and he knew what was coming. The vibrations the shook the ground only confirmed his suspicions, which was quickly followed by the echo and repercussions of flame that followed an explosion.**

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>Go! Go! Go!"<strong>_

**The Lieutenant couldn't hear anything, but he was already accustomed to it. The air was filled with the roar of battle as the rockets and mortars slammed into the ground and ripped it to shreds. His machinegun matched his roar as he led his company over the field and right into the grounds, right into the enemy. His men advanced and opened up, dropping anything that even looked gray uniformed. There was another roar, the sound of buzz saw.**

"_**Cover!" **_**someone shouted, and in time. The men ducked behind a wall from one of the facilities as the buzz saw ripped apart the ground where the eight men had been standing. That buzz saw had been an arm mounted MG-42 machinegun. The arm belonged to one of the towering **_**Sturmtroppen. **_**The fire carried on for less than ten seconds, as the Lieutenant had guessed, before there was audible **_**click!**_

"_**Take him out!" **_**the Lieutenant roared as he and his men rose to their feet, weapons geared for a fight. This was the Lieutenant's first upclose encounter with the infamous **_**Sturmtroppen, **_**and as he came into view, he took him all at a glance. Standing a foot taller than a full grown, average man; he was clad in heavy combat armor from head to toe. Similar to a medieval knight; except with wires, cabals and cooling sects sticking in and out of his armored carapace. He still possessed the infamous **_**Stahlhelm, **_**but it looked thicker and came with an equally armored gasmask, whose gaze was lit with an ambient red.**

"_**Light him up!"**_

**The execution of fire began. The squad opened up with their automatic weapons. The end effect was shocking to the newer members; but to Corporal Stanley of #11 SAS, it wasn't at all surprising.**

"_**Don't let up!" **_**he shouted as he reigned fire with LARB, a smaller and more compact version of the Bren. The weapon could fire .303 caliber rounds at a 500 rps, capable of ripping apart an entire squad twice over. It could only do so much as dent the Sturmtroppen's**_** Drachenstung, **_**but its impacts was knocking and kicking the soldier back as he attempted to clear his jammed weapon. They had him on his knees when almost simultaneously, they're weapons ran dry. A tense millisecond followed, and it became a race to see who reload quicker.**

"_**Back away." **_**a familiar beartoned voice boomed out from the battlefield, seeming to out scream the heavy, muting noise. As they did, an explosion rocked into the **_**Sturmtroppen **_**and sent him flying a good 5 yards in skidding arc that ripped up the ground. The **_**Sturmtroppen **_**was in agonizing pain, despite the flow of sedatives into his bloodstream. A monitor screen popped up in his hazy eye socket, displaying that his right arm and left leg were fractured in three separate places. They also displayed his heart rate and bodily functions, which were sky rocketing.**

**His sound amplifiers were picking up movement from up ahead. He slowly and painful began to turn his head to his would-be-executioners. Then his eyes went wide at whom he saw.**

"_**Gotten im Himmel." **_**He swore under his breath, his heart racing even faster than before as he attempted to raise his **_**Maschinengewehr. **_**His arm wouldn't respond, even the slightest quiver sent hot pain up his arm, but he fought it and slowly his arm began to rise. Then he very nearly screamed when a boot slammed his hand right back into the mud. Then he heard a **_**thunk **_**as the barrel of a shotgun was placed directly against his head.**

"_**Abschied, abschaum!"**_

**Then he felt the impact as the blast smashed into his face helmet. Signals began popping up in his eyepiece, helm integrity was being weakened. Then there was another blast and then another. The helmet was severely dented, but was holding. Then there was a final blast and a massive hole appeared in the helm and the inside was caked in blood.**

"_**Finally." **_**Benton growled, as he stepped over the slump of sticky metal. The battle resumed its pace. It soon became a blur of mindless, overwhelming violence.**

"_**Move! Move! Move!"**_

**The Soldiers moved from cover to cover, position to position, picking off enemy soldiers when they could. Benton and the soldiers ran through the hail of gunfire and flying mud to the main building. Benton was the first to react, unloading his Trench Gun into the first to try and come out through the door. The others were smart enough to close the door.**

"_**Stack up!"**_

**They did so, ready to breach the door. A pause later, and a nod from the Lieutenant, Benton loaded **_**Ball Bearing **_**ammunition and unloaded it into the door handle, blasting the cheap metal in half. A split second later, something round and metal rolled through the open door way.**

"_**Grenate! Grenat—"**_

**There was devastating explosion that rocked the room, and shook the ground in it's power.**

"_**Move in!"**_

**They then flooded through the building, finding soldiers' dead all around, but not from shrapnel. They had been crushed to death. Concussion Grenades had that effect. Exiting the door, the then came across a long junction tunnel. They moved slowly and carefully, team on either wall as they crept down the long tunnel.**

**They came across two doors on either side of the walls. Benton on one side and the Lieutenant, who signaled the other to proceed and breach. Both were found empty, nothing more 2x3 bunks. Several more doors were encountered, all the same result. It wasn't truly surprising, with the hammering the rest of the company were delivering outside, the Germans were going to need every man.**

"_**This place seem bigger than it looked?" **_**One of the soldiers pondered in a controlled whisper, to which he responded with a **_**"Yeah". **_**They had been moving for about five minutes down the junction, and despite the doors and clearings, it seemed they should have been on the otherside by now. Then they heard voices up ahead at cross point.**

"_**Get down." **_**The Lieutenant ordered, and the men went to concealment. A split second later, the massive form of **_**Sturmtroppen **_**appeared in the doorway, followed by a squad of soldiers wielding StG-44's and Gehwer-43's. Breathes were caught and weapons held tight as the Americans awaited the inevitable gunfight. But it never came, instead the behemoth continued its march down the hallway, and was quickly followed by more men carring massive wooden crates. On the side of the crates was the Reich Eagle, with the words **_**Spezialwaffen, Zugang Neun.**_

_**Access nine...**_** Benton mused to himself, **_**that'd mean only high level scientists and officers.**_

**As the heavy falling echo of the **_**Stormtroppen **_**boots faded down the hallway, the paratroopers stealthily crept towards the vertical coffin. When they turned down the walkway, they found only the closed steel door of an express elevator.**

"_**Intel never mentioned this," **_**Stanley inquired the obvious, his voice echoing around in the steel room.**

"_**When has intel ever mentioned something useful?" **_**someone retorted back.**

"_**Alright cut the chatter," **_**the Lieutenant interjected any further conversation, reaching for his palm radio and activating it, **_**"This is Bravo to all companies, come in, over."**_

**There was only static. The Lieutenant tried again, and as did everyone else.**

"_**It was working less than five minutes ago," **_**the Lieutenant noted as he tried for a third time, **_**"mebbe the buildings jamming the signal."**_

"_**No sir, it's not," **_**Stanley suddenly interrupted, his face grave and shallow as the grave, **_**"We encountered the same back in Iceland in '43."**_

"_**They're jamming our radio's." **_**another trooper added.**

"_**Well then, Benton," **_**the Lieutenant turned to face the bronze statue like man, **_**"where do we go from here?"**_

**Benton stared long and hard at the steel door, contemplating the best way to handle things without putting his comrades further into the belly of the beast. This was unknown territory, he knew. And the mission had to come first.**

"_**We follow them."**_

* * *

><p><strong>The whine of cranking gears filled the air and drowned out any lesser sounds. The smell of machine oil burned at their nostrils. The slowness of the elevator dragged a sense of anxiety that ate away at the back of minds. The darkness of that shaft only added to this feeling that knawed away at them, which permutated into the silence which followed. Final, some had the good sense to activate a weapon flashlight which burned away at least some of the darkness.<strong>

"_**We've been down here atleast two minutes." **_**Benton began, nudging the Lieutenant who nodded knowingly.**

"_**At this rate, we're a good hundred feet under the ground."**_

"_**This kind of elevator was built for heavy loads, maybe a ton or more."**_

"_**How do you know—"**_

"_**My pa worked on Empire State Building back in '30. Used elevators like these to transport heavy beams up to the upper builds."**_

"_**Which means heavy equipment."**_

"_**Precisely. There's something down here, and I don't think we're going to like it much."**_

"_**Agreed."**_

**Before either man could continue, there was audible **_**clank **_**as the elevator hit the ground and slid to a stop. Every man inside went to a fighters crouch, their weapons pointed at the door as one man pulled the steel door open. It revealed a long, damp tunnel that bent and disappeared around a corner. There were no enemies in sight, and the Sensorium detected no movement up ahead, although the range had been cut to just 15 yards.**

"_**Move in."**_

**Slowly and carefully, the troopers advanced down the corridor, hugging the adjacent walls with their weapons trained on the corner. They followed it for a minute coming across more junctions and tunnels, whose paths were confusing enough. The heavy boots of the **_**Sturmtroppen**_**, were clear in soft and recent turned soil however, making it clear where the trail led. The air was becoming colder and fouler, dust more participant down here than anywhere else. Weapons were held tight in arms firm from the anticipation of the fight, eyes and ears alert to any present danger ahead.**

**This is what saved the men. They all heard it, a subtle metallic whine, like an engine that hadn't been turned on in ages that now roared to life. No one was sure of the sound's origins until it was too close for comfort.**

"_**Titan!" **_**Stanley screamed in that confined space, his voice echoing and bouncing off the wall as he raised his LARB. But it was too late. There was sudden vibration that rocked the ground as the wall exploded in a shower of dust and mud. The men went to ground as the air was chocked with the grains, blinding them and causing them to splutter and cough. There was a brief, yet dragging silence that followed, which ended with the whine of gears, and a shadow appeared over the lot of them.**

**Weapons turned and pointed the armored shadow, and fired. Their rounds pelted and ricocheted off the shadow as a massive claw slammed into the ground in between the men. Quick reacting, they rolled and dodged to either sides of the tunnel and started retreating back down the corridor.**

"_**Withdraw!" **_**the Lieutenant roared with the intensity of his carbine, **_**"Withdraw to elevator!"**_

"_**C'mon you bastard!" **_**Stanley screamed as he unloaded his clip right into towering monster, the machinegun blasting rounds that proved useless. The weapon went **_**click, **_**then he ducked and jumped away as the hand smashed into the wall and took with it half of the tunnel wall. Stanley rolled and slid around as the hands smashed and punched the ground around him.**

"_**Stanley get clear, I've got an idea!" **_**Benton shouted at him as he moved down the tunnel. The monster came into view. It was a walker, standing on two legs and towering to less than nine feet, its armored encased torso scratching the top of the tunnel. The pilot inside was having difficulties moving inside the confided space, warning lights and messages flashing around his view panel as he tried maneuver. He cursed as he tried to swing the power-loaders arms to smash the Briton, but he proved too fast and he dodged away as his clawed fist smashed into the ground. Servos strained and wheezed with rushing air as he tried raise the arms up and about while keeping his opponents to the front of him.**

"_**Hey du Hurensohn! Komm und hol mich!"**_

**He turned and spotted the speaker and instantly recognized him. Benton Marshall. A cold delight filled him as he switched targets and approached him, his smile creasing wide as he raised his fist high and struck. Benton smiled too, as the stupid German took the bait like he wanted him to. He duck and the fist and arm buried its self deep into the wall.**

**Red alerts and flashes appeared in the pilots view screen, indicating the arm had been lodged and servos were being strained.**

"_**Oh für fickt willen!" **_**he cursed aloud as he strained at the controls, attempting to pull the arm out but to no avail.**

"_**Now!"**_

**Benton, the Lieutenant and Stanley opened fire. Red alerts and warnings began appearing frantically in the view screen when suddenly his leg servos starting taking damage. Cabals, servos and gears were blasted and the entire leg seized up and went to its metallic knee. He became unbalanced, and was forced to use his serviceable arm to brace himself. Then he started taking fire from the front.**

**Through the armored plating, Specialist Mickeals spotted an opening, revealing an exposed arm servo. He raised his Needler Rifle and took careful aim. He braced for the shot and fired. Suddenly, the loaders arm seized up and the pilot lost power to the shoulder hydraulics. He had nothing to check himself and he started to collapse.**

**His lodged arm began to pull upwards, ripping and tearing away at the tunnel foundations. The ceiling started to collapse and only the Lieutenant noticed in time.**

"_**Move!" **_**he lurched forward and pushed into Stanley, throwing him a good six feet away and in time. The ceiling collapsed and massive chunks fell and slammed into the ground, choking the air with dusk as the tunnel section caved in. Benton then jumped and pulled at the Lieutenants collar and pulled him back as more of the tunnel began to collapse. The pilot never stood a chance; the tons of the rock and mud fell in and crushed his puny hunk of steel. He died instantly.**

**Darkness filled the tunnel. Benton looked around frantically reaching out in every direction as he searched.**

"_**Lieutenant? Lieutenant are you alright?"**_

**There was a long silence followed by a bellow of coughing.**

"_**Here! Over here!"**_

**Benton reached for his chest light and activated it. The light spluttered, but came clear, revealing the prone Lieutenant less than six feet from him. Every part of him ached with pain, but he went to his knees and moved to support his ally.**

"_**Are you alright?"**_

**The Lieutenant was feeling no less for worse than his comrade, but he nodded and with the support of amber colored man, rose to his feet. He dusted himself off, physically and mentally checking his persons, then performing a mental inventory of what was missing. Meanwhile, Benton was looking around, noting the tunnels structural weakness beginning to form in and around the ceiling. They wouldn't have long before the rest of the shaft would collapse and cave in. He tried his radio again, but all he heard was continued static over frequency air waves.**

"_**This really was a trap," **_**he mumbled to himself. Then he heard movement behind him, and he turned to find the Lieutenant digging away at the rubble with his entrenchment tool. He shouldered his weapon and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, who promptly shook it away.**

"_**Lieutenant," **_**he grumbled, his darkened voice bouncing in an echo that made it seem they were in an echo chamber, **_**"We won't get out this way."**_

"_**We have to try," **_**the Lieutenant murmured back as he continued digging, "**_**The rest of the men are that way."**_

"_**Damn it, sir, stop!"**_

**With a single, powerful lunge, he snatched the younger man with the strength of a bear pulling him back as more of the roof started to cave in ontop of the current debris. Dazed, the Lieutenant stood dumbfounded and rooted to the spot.**

"_**Eyes straight sir," **_**he shook him slightly, bringing his attention forward as he continued, **_**"The tunnel supports are too damage to even touch that pile. The only way to go now—"**_

**He pointed flashlight down the tunnel.**

"—_**is forward."**_

**The Lieutenant looked back at the collapse passageway, back to the rest of the men, and to the clear sky above. Memories began to fill his mind in flashes, flashes of his home in the sunny shores of California, to his home… to his home… to his home. The words kept playing over and over in his head like a record player, playing over and over until the words touched his own lips. Benton knew he had to keep this man alive, alive like the rest of the world, alive to return to the dream while it lasted.**

_**"C'mon, we'll get out of this yet," **_**he comforted with a firm hand on the man's shouldered, **_**"This ain't the worst I've been, and I'd wager it won't be the last."**_

* * *

><p><strong>The roars of engines hammering into life filled the chamber as the <strong>_**Panzersoldat **_**lumbered to life, their pilots powering up the hydraulics to the legs, lifting the torso off the ground as power cycles were charging to operation. A manual checklist came next, as information and power diagnostics popped up in the review screens facing the pilot. Then he would begin a series of lever snapping and button pressing activating all onboard systems; communications and detection systems, manual controls and drive shafts surrounding the pilot in the cramp cockpit. He would then call on the radio **_**"Alle Systeme grün!" **_**and closed the heavy hatch at the top of armored cabin. Then with the sounds of hissing hydraulics and groaning servos, the walkers lumbered forth for designated labors.**

_**AT-7743 **_**lurch forth, his onboard screens displaying his delivery orders and their designated rally points. He followed his squadron leader as they marched in formation through the constructed chambers and past the crowds of soldiers and engineers who were about their own duties. Muffled from the armored cabins were the whine of machine instruments and generators powering as equipment were placed in their final assembly before electricity was run through. Cables and cooling routers, ducts and vents dotted the floor and walls all about, which wheezed as hot air was vented out to keep the delicate machines from overheating. None of this was on **_**AT-7743's **_**mind as he manned his controls with a sense of practiced ease.**

**No, his thoughts were on the last of his tasks before he would be put to sleep with the rest of the men in the caverns under this no-name-island. His memories of the past were ones of fear and relief. He had been faithful soldier, nothing short of it was expected, but he had been fighting a hopeless war, watching as his country was reduced to ruin. Yet, he knew he had been lucky. Lucky enough that he had been deemed important enough to be among the ones who were here and alive, not among the rest who had been left behind in Germany to die, or the ones on the surface who were fighting a delaying effort.**

_**"Die so we can live." **_**The cold thought had crossed his mind more than once on the long trip here, and even more so on this very night. He shook his head and kept his mind on the task; **_**"Focus on Gerald, focus on the Feldwebel," **_**he told himself repeatedly. Finally, the massive machines lumbered into the loading bay, where more equipment was being hurriedly transported down to the cavern, to **_**Die Gräber, **_**The Tomb. Then a cadre of **_**Sturmtroppen **_**and personnel lumbered down with a vast number of crates. Most had **_**Spezialwaffen, Zugang Fer **_**and **_**Funf, **_**standard equipment.**

**The other dozen caught his eye, however. **_**Zugang Neun: **_**weapons research. He let his mind wonder as long as it would last; at least until he heard the bark from the **_**Feldwebel**_**. He wrestled with the controls; bring his armored power loader into position, then marching up to the many stacked crates. He dropped power from the leg hydraulics, allowing him to assume a crouch position and then slide his power grabbers over the delicate boxes. He tightened his grip, and then redirected power to the legs and he rose.**

**With his cargo in tow and hand, he marched out to join the rest of the walkers as they marched away back to the assembly area, then to the area that would drop colder than the worst storm on the surface. High above him and the others in the cavern, two sets of eyes drifted in observation, hidden in the shadow of the cave.**

_**"Quite an operation they've got here."**_

_**"Agreed. Counting the one in tunnel, that makes eight of the Panzersoldat. And about a hundred enemy personnel."**_

_**"So what are you thinking? They planning to hide down here until we leave, start things up again?"**_

**The other man grumbled darkly, gazing down into the loading chamber and the engineers scampering about with their cargo in tow. Then something caught his eye; to the common eye, it would've looked like any ordinary air conditioning system. Yet this one had a vast number of cables and coolant vents dotting its structure, and at its top was an ejector tube. The tube was perhaps nothing more than an enlarged syringe, but that was the final clue.**

_**"Not just until we leave," **_**he began, his intelligent and observing finally revealing the dark secrets below, the realization of his enemies purpose, **_**"What do you know about cryogenic science."**_

**The Lieutenant turned his head and gazed at the good doctor, and even in the gloom his face was fixed in the bemused state:**

_**"That it was bust," **_**he replied simply, **_**"That the chief scientist was killed '42 and that they were unable to get it going any further."**_

_**"As it should have been," **_**Benton now pulled aside his scattergun, and then clipped the 40mm grenade launcher onto its structure, **_**"Doctor Wermburg, God rest his soul, insured that the der große Schlaf would never see the light of day," **_**Benton paused at this, as though mentally calculating his further response, **_**"Or the light of battle."**_

_**"Which still doesn't answer the question at hand," **_**the Lieutenant interrupted as he loaded another clip into his .30 caliber carbine with a resounding **_**click, "If somehow they scavenged the operation what are they planning to use it for."**_

_**"Operation Winterschlaf. An Endgame strategy for the Reich if they ever lost the war. A deep sleep until the time was right."**_

_**"You mean-?"**_

_**"They're gonna hibernate, probably for decades until the world is ripe for a takeover."**_

_**"'So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.'"**_

_**"Fitzgerald?"**_

_**"I read. Either way we need to put an end to these guys. Got any ideas?"**_

_**"One of the biggest problems with cryogenics is that it requires an enormous cooling apparatus to prevent overheating. And all of them are connected to a single power line, like Christmas lights."**_

_**"What would happen if we took out the power line?"**_

**Benton smiled. It was so odd and out of place for him that it chilled the Lieutenant to his core, with the realization that this crusty and deranged smile could only mean danger. Finally he spoke the only word needed for the occasion: **_**"Boom."**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Easy, easy, down here Gerald!" <strong>_**Leutnant Siezerman roared over the din of the massive machines groaning as the lowered their charge into position. Moments later, technicians rushed over and began plugging the cooling systems into place with tightening of cooling ducts and cabals. Then, power was routed to the system, and the room dropped in temperature in the blink of an eye. Breath cooled to fog in the Leutnant's mouth, but he did not notice.**

**Instead, any fear was overtaken by anxiety. Soon, he knew, they would be put to sleep right in the enemies' backyard, and they would be safe. He had to smile at the irony. They would search the corners of the earth, yet would never think to search their own borders.**

_**"Leutnant!" **_**a harsh, shrill like voice beckoned from behind. The technician did a smart about face, and his Kapitän came into view. He was pluck, small man with a face shaped like a horse. But he dared not jest about it. Small men, he knew, always had ways of returning the favor. Instead, he stood at a sharp attention when he approached.**

_**"You were to have this section of the facility completed fifteen minutes ago!"**_

_**"I apologize Kapitän, the Panzersoldat were late in their delivery, but—"**_

_**"No But's!" **_**the little man screamed as he waddled up to the Leutnant, ever conscious that he only came to the tall blonde's chest level.**

_**"I gave you the explicit order to—"**_

**Then they all heard it: a loud series of beeping coming from the coolant system. Curious, a technician approached the coolant, and noticed a constant red light inside the panel. When he removed the panel, his heart stopped cold.**

_**"Rucksackladung!"**_

**Suddenly the technician was engulfed in fire. The cooler exploded, with a roar like dragons breath, sending shrapnel and debris in every direction. **_**AT- 7744 **_**moved quickly, shielding the technicians under his heavy armor. Yet the sickening sounds of metal striking metal was all but too audible. Warning signs emitted in his comm screens as he began taking massive damage to his spinal connectors.**

**Then a hunk of metal, six feet in length, smashed into the hydraulic joint in his left leg, severing power and causing him to collapse. Seconds later, fire crews arrived with extinguishers and foam launchers. In the next wave, soldiers armed to the teeth. And soon after, the **_**Oberstleutnant**_**, whose darkened presence seemed to make the room drop in temperature.**

_**"What happened here?" **_**he practically spat with bluster of anger. The Leutnant couldn't blame him. The **_**Kapitan **_**had taken shard in the leg and the **_**mediziner **_**had doped him. The Leutnant had to make the report. He marched up to the danger, and stood at attention before.**

_**"Sir, we were attaching a coolant when one of my technicians inspected a noise coming from the vent. Before he died, he screamed satchel, sir."**_

_**"Satchel Charge," **_**the **_**Oberstleutnant **_**face warped and changed from anger to recognition than to a sense of joyous insanity. Then he began barking orders to the soldiers surrounding him, and they all rushed to their tasks. Before he left, the Leutnant swore he heard **_**"We have guests."**_

**Elsewhere, the ticking's of sound as careful as the creeping of rats in the snake tunnel, and breaths held in tight control in contracted chests. Then they heard the explosion, felt the heavy impact vibrate through the vents wall and floor into their crawling bodies. Then they heard the smack of boots in a hurry below, and seconds later, black uniformed soldiers armed with **_**Gewhers **_**and the like rushed past them towards the disruptions down the way. Fortunately enough, they hadn't been keen to look up, had they and they would've seen to men in olive uniforms cramped together in the reinforced filtration duct above them. As the sounds of the mens heavy boots faded into nonexistence; the Lieutenant let out a sigh of relief, and removed his helmet, revealing a clump of cropped black hair in high regulation, removing his connected scarf in the process.**

_**"That was close. Had they looked up…"**_

_**"Luck, yeah. Treacherous thing luck," **_**Benton grumbled in that confined space, but then he softened a little, even allowing for the ghost of a smile, **_**"Hey cheer up, I wager they'll make a film about this."**_

_**"What, a guy wandering in vents with armed men below?" **_**the younger of the two men cracked a long amused look, but then it disappeared under a shroud of seriousness, **_**"I didn't think that explosion would be so big or loud."**_

_**"Told you it was unstable. Well either way it bought us some time."**_

_**"So what now? Follow this vent?"**_

_**"Yep." **_**Benton replied, reaching into his coat and drew a concealed .45 1917 Revolver from its holster, then removing a long, fat tube. As he began screwing it on the end of the weapon, he caught the gleam of his comrade's trophy from **_**Market Garden**_**, a Walther P-38 that had been built in with a silencer.**

_**"An impressive weapon," **_**Benton commented admiringly, as he began to manual check the weapons' magazine.**

_**"Yes," **_**the Lieutenant replied grave in his tone, **_**"the SS always do have the best toys."**_

**Without further adue, the two began creeping further the elaborate maze the heat of the catacomb. The going was slow, and theirs knees groaned from the effort, but they made good progress. Eventually, they found what they were looking for as the vents ahead began to brighten in heavy blue and white illumination. Next came the voices; some heavy and dark, others refined in vocals. The two commandos then crept to the nearby vent hold and began to open it slowly.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Munich born scientist was examining the console controls for the radiating power source as it crackled with streaks of electricity. Two engineers were placing the final bindings on the device, their pitch dark suits insulated to the unstable energies as they began implementing the isolation and redirection controls on the <strong>_**Stromdurchlicht. **_**Once the final power cabal was installed, the two engineers stepped away, and heavy steel shutters began to close around the energy source. Next the scientist began flipping toggle switches and control bottoms, sending the energy to other generators and transformers.**

**The guards behind him shifted uneasily as the steel doors closed shuck and loud hydraulics hissed with dust exploding, a heavy lock sliding in place. The engineers, now safe from the electrical currents, began removing the lumbering work suits and heading down the hallway towards the equipment closet. The scientist clicked the last of the safety procedures, a checklist appearing on the consol screen, each marked with green checkmarks. Satisfied, he reached for the hand held comp-tablet and started to head for the door. Then the toe of his shoe hit something soft.**

**He looked up, and his breathe was caught deep into his chest, an expression of horror and confusion playing on his face. The two soldiers assigned to him laid limp upon the floor, dark stains increasing in size through their black uniforms. He turned to run, to scream for help, when an unknown man stepped out from the door way, a silenced pistol raised. The German stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes taking in everything he could about the man in a heartbeat. He was a menacing man, tall and lean with cropped black hair and striking gold eyes that seemed to pierce his soul.**

_**"How's it going?" **_**the Lieutenant asked lightly as he depressed the trigger, the report of the hand gun the pop of bursting corn. The only concern sound was the loud slump as the white coat hit the metal floor.**

_**"All clear."**_

**Benton appeared from behind and right, closing the closet door behind him and holstering the hefty revolver.**

_**"Ah so that's where you went." **_**He grumbled as he brushed past his comrade who was standing guard at the door way. Oddly, he touched the door window, his eyes mystified and joined in union with the illuminating device separated by less than a quarter foot of steel and glass.**

_**"You know what that is?" **_**the other man asked as he crossed the room, his silenced weapon still in the guard position.**

_**"This is the Ark Light Generator, first built by the late Nikolai Tesla back in '23. It, along with its creator, were lost in the raid of '43."**_

_**"The Iceland Incident?" **_**The Lieutenant inquired his mind return to the briefing packet he had received when he had joined the organization months prior. It had been the reason primary Command and Control center had been moved to Nevada, and why they had jumped started offensive operations against the axis.**

_**"The polite version of it," **_**Benton's voice had gone from his gravelly tradition to seamlessly marveled curiosity, **_**"Old Nick, built the first prototype back in 1908 to power his death ray. Granted it didn't do too well against that meteorite, but what can you do with a thousand ton rock. A pity we're going to have to destroy it."**_

_**"So boss, what's the plan? We toss a grenade in there?"**_

_**"Better than that." **_**He then removed an explosive from his pouch, yellow in color and with the resemblance of clay, along with primer charge connected by cord to a timer.**

_**"Whoa, what the hell is that?"**_

_**"Something our boys cooked up a while back; never did get to use in the field. But now's as good a time as any."**_

_**"Alright, I repeat my question, what's the plan?"**_

**Benton then turned the equipment cabinet and open the panel, removing the black and gray insulation suit. Minutes ticked by in anticipation, ended by the loud **_**zip**_** as Benton closed up the suit. Then the doors hissed open, revealing the Tesla Generator in all of its crackling glory. He then stepped into the chamber, the electrical currents bouncing harmlessly off of him, the bright white image reduced to a quaint glare through the thick black binder. He then produced the plastic explosive and slammed it onto the devices upper surface, the suction sticking to the metal.**

**With haste, he then stepped out of the chamber, the doors hissing shut behind him. As he began ripping the suit off of him, the Lieutenant then checked the digital counter, clicking the **_**activate **_**switch; producing red chrome numbers all reading a triple zero.**

_**"How much time will we need?"**_

_**"It'll take us five minutes to get to the secondary lift, another ten to reach the surface."**_

_**"17 minutes just to be sure." **_**He then activated the time which began counting down to it's ultimate destruction.**

_**"Right, now let's get out of here—"**_

_**"Oh, I think you should stay, gentlemen." **_**Out of the shadows, **_**"Snake" **_**stood at the doorway, a Walther held at the hip, **_**"Afterall, you wouldn't want to miss the show we have planned for your country."**_

_**"Steiner." **_**Benton growled; a growl of underlining malice that was foreign and unrecognizable to him. The two men locked eyes, never breaking contact even as a squad of soldiers rushed past the **_**Obsterleutnant **_**and into the room. His every thought was to destroy this **_**monster**_**, this inhuman creature that had to be exterminated; who had been responsible for the death of thousands, and he had to die. But his inner thoughts pointed to the soldier standing beside them, and he knew resistance would mean his death. He had to be patient.**

**The same could not be said for the Lieutenant. He struggled and fought, but a rifle butt ended his plight. Steiner strode into the room, his pistol never straying far from his enemy as he picked up the detonator cord. A look up mockery showed on his face:**

_**"You and your many toys, Benton." **_**He sneered contemptuously. Benton did not even flinch, his eyes and voice steady with bitter retort:**

_**"Could say the same about you, Steiner. I guess I should have aimed for your head."**_

_**"Oh, come now, old friend," **_**he stepped closer, the pistol held hip level as he closed the distance, **_**"is that the way you treat you're 'alter kamerad'?"**_

_**"We were never friends, Johann. Not sense you became that which you once despised."**_

_**"The man you knew in Kursk was weak, Benton. When I met Adolf, I knew a new order was rising and I was to be a part of it. The new order, Benton. Surely you must realize the importance of order in a world of chaos."**_

_**"By the definition of a mad man? One that you so gladly still follow. " **_**Benton spat contemptuously. Steiner just shook his head in disappointment.**

_**"I see you have not changed."**_

**He then deactivated the timer, which stopped with 16 minutes to spare. As he did this, the Lieutenant could feel something cold and round being pressed into the palm of his hand.**

_**"Hitler is dead, Steiner," **_**Benton continued, knowing that every second was going to be needed, **_**"the Vaterlund in ruins. What do you still have left to fight for?"**_

_**"The future, Benton." **_**He replied, turning his head to gaze at the man he knew to be his equal, if not he knew, his better. He then continued his dialogue:**

_**"Your bullets did their work, and I found myself in the darkness. Hell, perhaps. Yet when I reached out into that darkness, I felt something reach back," **_**he paused, then continued, **_**"and I was brought back. Back to change the future for mankind, Benton."**_

_**"Was he always this crazy?" **_**The Lieutenant interjected his voice full of absolute mockery. Steiner was stunned by the insult, not noticing the wink that passed between Benton and other man.**

_**"Oh believe me, he used to be brilliant. That is until he jumped the bandwagon and they turned him into another goose stepping goon."**_

_**"Oh really? Mebbe he's still missing a pint or two if you get meaning!"**_

_**"You dare!?" **_**Steiner shrieked with wicked anger, **_**"You think your jokes will save you!?"**_

_**"No," **_**the Lieutenant replied with a cocky smile, **_**"but they do serve as a good distraction."**_

**They then heard the ping, and thump of metal on metal.**

_**"Granate!" **_**A soldier screamed in German, as the two Americans slammed past their capturers and leaped behind the control console. The explosion was deafening, the concussion overpowering even behind the console, but it did not stop the two American from unleashing Hell with their weapons. The Lieutenant poured fire into a couple of Germans who had been standing next to the equipment locker, downing one and forcing the other to take cover. Benton buckshoted another who had taken cover next to the door then switched aim and obliterated another who had been making for the console. Then more soldiers began running down the steps, unleashing withering fire from their StG-44's.**

**Taking cover, Benton had to scream to be heard over ringing uproar filling the room:**

_**"Activate the explosive! Then make a bolt for the auxiliary door!"**_

_**"How do we keep them from deactivating it again?!"**_

_**"By this!"**_

**When the timer was activated, Benton slammed his Trenchgun into the timer, which broke the screen and ruptured one of the panel buttons. However, the numbers continued ticking down. He then loaded Dragons Breath into his scattergun and roared:**

_**"Ready?"**_

**Before the Lieutenant could respond, he rose and fired. The spray ripped into the soldiers, and then a nano-second later the magnesium reacted with clothing and organic material, igniting them. Over the screams, Benton fired the underbarrel launcher:**

_**"Say hello to my little—"**_

**The explosion cut of the rest of words, smashing and rending everything in the corridor. Across the room, the Lieutenant threw himself into the door and smashed it to the floor, and fired instinctively into the adjacent hallway, his automatic M2 Carbine ripping his opponents apart as the .30 caliber bullets slammed home. He then righted himself, unleashing the rest of his clip into the next batch of **_**Waffen **_**then tossing a grenade down the corridor.**

_**"Marshall we've gotta move!" **_**he screamed into the room, the turning his barrel to finish the rest of the squad off. Benton then appeared behind him, firing a slug into the room behind him and then advancing down the hallway. Quickly the two men exited the complex and found themselves outside, in the open view of every gaping eye around. The Lieutenant then fired a burst into the nearest group and the entire complex was thrown into chaos. Exchanging fire with oncoming soldiers, they took cover amongst the crowd.**

_**"Oh Hölle willen!" **_**A Waffen screamed as he fired into the crowd, just before three .30 caliber rounds slammed and ripped apart his chest. Benton and the Lieutenant were now moving with all haste, ducking more hot lead for their heads and dodging in and around cover.**

_**"Where the hell is that elevator!?" **_**The Lieutenant screamed as in a fluid motion leapt over a cargo box, turned and fired a burst into the crowd of pursuing soldiers. Benton raced past him and blew away another who was trying to sneak up on them.**

_**"This way! It's—"Benton's**_** voice was caught dead cold even before it left his lungs**_**.**_** Ahead of him were more enemy soldiers and a **_**Panzersoldat **_**except this one was adorned with **_**Dunklegrun **_**camouflage; and twin 20mm Gatling mounted in each hand. Just as the whine of turning motors began, Benton felt a hand grab his collar and yanked. A second later, Hellfire ripped the ground apart with tremendous force that could be felt trembling the ground. Even worse, the Hellfire followed the fleeing men as they ran.**

**Others caught in its past were utterly annihilated, their bodies either thrown back several yards or tossed into the air. They came across another clearing about twenty feet across, ahead more metal containers the size and width of a man. They sprinted with speed, just as more of the Hellfire started to catch up with them. The massive rounds bonded and smashed into the containers, but whatever was in them was absorbing the impact.**

_**"What do we do now?" **_**The Lieutenant screamed aloud. That smile returned to Benton's face, which continued to give the younger man further chills to the bone.**

_**"Wait for it." **_**He replied with the slamming of a 40mm HE round into his launcher. Then the defining fire stalled then stopped, replaced by a loud whine like an engine stalling. Benton then stepped out and fired; his aim corrected with practiced ease as the High Explosive Grenade slamming into the ammunition storage rack located behind the left arm and detonating the volatile rounds. The explosion roared with fragmentation and concussion smashing into and then rending the **_**Panzersoldat **_**like a can. The concussions then pulverized everyone about, clearing their way to the door.**

_**"C'mon let's move."**_**Benton roared, followed by the slamming of boots hitting the mud. More soldiers were coming from every direction and they needed an exit. They made the mad dash across the field, desperately trying to get to the elevator when another squad of soldiers came in from the opposite direction. Trying to take them on head on would have been suicidal; they would have been cut where they stood. Changing directions, they retreated back to the shipment containers, tracers and fire whipping past their heads. Their luck was starting to run dry, the Lieutenant felt a searing hot pain rush through him as a bullet slammed into his leg and then exited out the other. ****He then rolled with the pain, landing in a kneeling position, and raised the carbine. He fired continuously, emptying his clip in less than a few seconds. But it had the desired effect; the advancing squad was caught completely by surprise. Three were immediately downed, one more was wounded in the leg, and the rest were driven into cover. He then turned, moving as fast as his wounded leg could take, and then drew his Walther as he moved for cover.**

**He hit the wall, back to it as began checking his weapon stock.**

**_"Bastards nicked me the leg." _****he hissed through clenched teeth as he reloaded his weapon, ****_"How you—"_**

**He then turned and saw. Benton had a darkening mark in his upper chest, under the collarbone. Regardless of the pain, he reloaded his launcher and handed it to his comrade**

**_"Last round. Make it count."_**

**And he did. The Lieutenant raised the launcher and fired, striking just behind the advancing squad and blowing the ground below them high into the air. As this happened; Benton reached into the side of his web-belt and removed what looked like to ordinary set of eyes a tube of paste. And in a sense they would have been right. Benton removed the cap and then held it to his wound, applied pressure and a green foam oozed out and began to fill his wound.**

**_"Here," _****he handed the other man the tube while retrieving his scattergun, ****_"Gel Bandage: squeeze it into your wound, it'll form an artificial scab and stop the bleeding."_**

**As he did so, he rose and then blasted a soldier who had been foolish enough to try to approach unseen. But he knew that he wasn't alone, and they would soon be overwhelmed by more enemy troops. He shouldered his Trenchgun, and removed the dead man ****_Sturmgehwer _****and ammunition.**

**_"If I'm right," _****his comrade shouted while delivering suppressing fire over his head, ****_"they're gonna try and box them in."_**

**_ "Alright, plan B," _****the Bronze man replied, looking over to an exposed right flank, which was dotted with high concealed shelves and boxes, ****_"you hold the fort, keep 'em occupied and I'll see if I can try and sneak around them."_**

**The Lieutenant was going to say that was suicide, but he knew thay didn't have many other options left. He nodded, and prepped his last handful of grenades.**

**_"And here take this." _****He tossed the paratrooper the assault weapon, and then disappeared around the corner. **

* * *

><p><strong><em>"Can you stop the count down?" <em>**

**_"Sir I can do my best, but whatever this cabals made off, I can't seem to cut it!"_**

**_ 'Snake'_**** turned to the engineer standing over with half his face buried in the console's command interior, who shook his head:**

**_"The blast knocked out the door controls, I can try to reroute power and order a manual shutdown, but it'll take time."_**

**_ "You have 11 minutes," _****he hissed angrily, ****_"do not fail yourselves."_**

**He then dashed down the corridor, holding his hand over the burnt side of his face, which was rapidly turning from scorched black to red and then to orange scab. He sprinted with a speed unlike any other man****, leaping high onto a crate shelf and then to the ground, drawing his saber in a fluid motion.**

* * *

><p><strong><em> "Get ready to kiss your asses' goodbye."<em>**

**Benton had manage to loop around the enemy, standing not less than ten feet from a firing ****_Waffen, _****under the concealment of an armored crate****_. _****He pulled his last concussion grenade from his coat and mentally prepared himself for the toss. Then he heard something: a sudden breeze switch and change, and the gradual muffled ****_thud _****of a boot hitting metal. So soft were they that no ordinary human could've heard them. But then again: he was not ordinary.**

** He rose, making the gesture to ready for a grenade toss. In truth, his hand reached for the long, clip-point buck knife rest at his side. He waited and then he drew. The flash of saber striking knife sent sparks high and wide in the air, as both men righted themselves, blades held at the ready and stances locked.**

**_"I see you have not lost your touch, Benton." _****Steiner rasped as he held his saber out front and slanted to the side: classic 1st Fence position. **

**_"And it seems you practiced." _****Benton replied, as he held his 11in blade in the ****_Hammer_****: left hand extended forward with the blade held to the chest. **

**_"Well now," _****Steiner continued, beginning the tradition of the duel, ****_"shall we begin, old friend?"_**

**_"Defend yourself." _****His opposite roared as he lunged like a rubberband released, the blade held high for a stab to the abdomen. Steiner stepped back, letting the blade swath at the open air and then lashed down in an arc, only to find Benton had moved to his right and attempted to stab at his unprotected side. He attempted to jump back but not before he felt the blade slash across the side of his ribs. He dogged back, side stepping to give himself some distance and holding the blade downward to fend off another attack. As the two men began to circle the other; memories of two young fencers, then friends, who spent hour after hour combating the other, finding and exposing their opposite's weaknesses.**

**Across the room, the Lieutenant was finding himself in a bad situation about to get worse. He was facing off against at least twenty armed attackers, who had his left and front suppressed. They kept him pinned down while they edged closer to his position. He attempted to fire, forced to do it blind while he kept up a good show of resistance, enticing his enemies ever closer. Then he heard it: a soldier had bumped into a paint can that he had stood up earlier and it fell to the floor.**

**The ****_crash _****gave him only a moment, but it was all he needed. He pulled the pins on the grenades and tossed them across the walk way. On the otherside of the room, Benton was finding himself in a delicate position. Steiner's saber had given his opponent the edge in distance and he was paying for it. He had been slashed down his left leg and up his right arm, but he refused to drop. Steiner was sticking to his advantage: his reach and he kept him there by constantly stabbing and slashing forward.**

**Then they felt the explosion rock the floor, and Benton took his chance. He lunged, bringing the knife upward for the throat. Steiner found himself backed against a wall; so he slashed down at his approaching enemy catching him in the left arm. Benton did not stop; instead he shot his left arm forward and grabbed and pulled at the saber arm while stabbing forward with his blade. Steiner did the only thing he could: he shot his free hand forward and blocked the knife; then sending it over his head while delivering a knee to the groin.**

**The Lieutenant was now fighting a combat retreat. The grenades had left only a handful left, but they were being persistent. He would fire a burst, and then roll to a new set of cover. Benton felt the knee go into him, but he refused to let go; he held onto the arm and then twisted, throwing Steiner around while disarming the saber. He then kicked in his knee, causing Steiner to drop in pain while he swung the knife down in a hammer fist. **

**Steiner caught the coming blade then threw it over his head allowing Benton's own momentum to toss him over his shoulder. Benton hit the ground hard, his blade tossed high and far. He saw Steiner coming, so he righted himself, and threw himself at him, landing a punch across the face. The fight soon became a brawl, with fists and elbows thrown into the mix as the two fought tooth and nail. Elsewhere, the Lieutenant was starting to run out of tricks. **

**The enemy had pinned him down, and was approaching fast. The Lieutenant had one more card left to play. He fired a burst around the corner of his cover, and then he mimicked a scream of pain. He heard them coming fast; he dropped to floor and began to play possum. The enemy soldiers had been expecting him to be standing; they missed him as they swept the area, making them all too vulnerable to the Americans retaliation.**

**_"You think you can win, Benton!?" _****Steiner screamed as he struck him across the face, then proceeding to knee him once, and twice, throwing him against a wall. As Benton recovered, Steiner drew the Walther and held it like an executioner.**

**_"Goodbye, mein freund."_**

**Then suddenly there was the roar of the report of the scattergun. The blast slammed into Steiner's chest and threw him back, as another shell and then another opened and shredded the SS officer's chest cavity. Despite this, the inhuman rose one final time, and then slumped back, falling over and down an open elevator shaft. Into the darkness, forever. The Lieutenant offered a hand and pulled his brother in arms to his feet, and in that moment, the two stood for an eternity locked in each other's admiration.**

**_"Ya did good kid." _****Benton complemented with his rare warm smile.**

**_"You weren't too bad yourself old man."_**

**That moment was brief. They all felt it: the detonation. The catacomb soon became filled the blinding light of the sun exploding, the air filled with the roar of an inferno combusting until… There was only darkness.**

* * *

><p><strong>He felt cold. Colder than he had ever been, the darkness enveloping him. He could not see, could not even believe he was alive. He reached for his flash light, and saw why. The ceiling had collapsed, but the cargo had blocked the tonnage of stone and mortar from crashing down their heads. He spent the hour searching the area around where he could, finding that the cage had closed, trapped as its prisoners. <strong>

**But atleast they were alive. His comrade was unconscious, but he knew he'd pull through. That wouldn't matter, however, it they didn't find a way out. It was on his second search that he found it: the two unbroken cryogenic tubes not shattered by the impact. At first he brushed them aside, until he noticed they were in a powered state. **

**He hadn't realized that each device had been hooked up to an individual battery, already charged by the Tesla Generator. They could still be used if needed. He searched twice more, yet could not find an exit. He realized that they're wouldn't be one, atleast not yet. The overhang and the environment would prevent any further collapse.**

**And it so that he loaded his comrade, his brother in arms, into the cryogenic tube; and in an instant he was frozen in perfect stasis. The syringe loaded the cryogenic compound into capsules air, and the IV lines entered the stasis fluid into the blood stream, reducing the bodily activity to an almost death like state. The pods would keep them alive to allow time for an exit to form, or for them to be rescued. ****_But would they be rescued_****, he wondered to himself.**

**It was perhaps the last thought he would have before the capsule closed shut and the air turned cold. He felt dopey as the blue liquid entered him.**

**_Will we be rescued?_**

**It would be his last thought… for a hundred years**


	2. Chapter 1: Nov 23rd, 2099

Chapter One

November 23rd, 2099, the Lourne Balfe

Formerly Denali National Forest

* * *

><p><strong>The howl of the wind was the constant reminder of the state the land was in. Over the mountains and valleys, the wind seemed to be trapped in this bowl of a region. It screamed with such fury; like a lion forever realizing that this cage would be its home for the rest of it natural life. It carried with the great sheets of white, covering the land ever constant in its cold embrace. It was the true, never ending thing that was a constant reminder of far the world had gone.<strong>

** It was merciless and pitiless. It took pleasure in suffering, biting into flesh and bone. It penetrated deeper, however, able to strip a man's sanity from its ceaseless moaning. Whether this would occur before or after it robbed the man of his soul, none have lived to tell the tale. Only the hardy, only strong, call this place home. **

** Down in the valley, three figures stood against the whiteout. From a distance, they seemed to be the sorry, broken stumps of long dead trees. But over the miles they moved, connected by rope and will, making the climb with slow progress. Though the three were heavily bundled, draped in furs and fabrics and bearing heavy cloaks; the cold took root and continued to push. Breath not blocked by their masks and goggles was quickly frozen to snow, which join the rest of downpour slamming and whirling around the strangers in the hostile land. **

** They ignored the howl of the every constant enemy; their years borne in the land toughing the tolerance, almost to the point of non-feeling. Several miles down the mountain, a caravan of more intruders waited. They had planned to make the trail leading through the mountains before the onset of heavy storms blocked their path. Now they had no choice; three were chosen (though one reluctantly) to make the arduous trek up the mountain side and to find the southern passage and determine if the snow had blocked its entrance. The journey had taken the better part of three hours, closing with three miles; however they had only a little more ways to go.**

** They dug their hikelites deeper into the toughened ground frozen with the heavy concentration of snow, ice and sod, and pushed on with just a little more vigor as they could muster. The two men in the back were starting to slow from fatigue, and slacked their pace. Then pressed forward with their eyes down from their exhaustion and not noticing that the lead had stopped until they stumbled.**

** _"What—"one_ of the men began before a hand was raised. They both fell silent, then the hand dropped into a pointing gesture straight ahead.**

** _"You see that, that thing sticking out of the ground?"_**

**They both saw it, but the whiteout made it difficult to see any actually details.**

** _"Could just be a stone…" _then the whiteout lifted in visibility, _"Wait, I can see the outline of a coat!"_**

**They could not contain their own anxiety. They were pushed by fresh shock of energy blasting through their aching bodies as they hurried forward as fast as the slope would allow. It took a full minute to travel the thirty paces to the prone figure, finding it laying in the snow face first and half covered in the sleet. They surrounded him on their knees, digging and pushing away the snow. When they had a better view, they saw what had brought the poor blighter to the ground: he had three bullet wounds to the back, the blotches of dark blood dried.**

** _"Poor fellow," _one of the travelers replied in a strained whisper, _'highwaymen must've gotten him in the night."_**

**_ "Wait." _****Another replied, placing ear close to the dead-man's head. She then removed her knitcap, revealing flowing brown hair that was immediately pulled and turned by the fierce wind. She put her ear to ground again, close to where the man's mouth would have been. Then she cried with a start:**

** _"He's breathing! He's alive!"_**

**_ "The lucky bastard." _****One of the men sighed with relief before taking charge, _"Alright stay here. The southern passage shouldn't be too far from here and if the entrance hasn't been covered by snow, it'll have stretcher._"**

** He then turned to the other man:**

** _"Tom, you got the sparks?"_**

**He produced a tri-full of red signal flares. The other man, then removed his goggles and stared at sky; revealing his upper face with an Eskimo decadence that shown with the brightness of his bright green eyes:**

** _"The wind will be lifting in a couple of hours. We can signal them then and wait for help."_**

**Tom stood with grim determination and unclipped the woman's safety harness. In another minute they disappeared from sight, shrouded by the snowfall. **

** _"Hold on," _she whispered to the dying man, _"help is coming fast."_ **

* * *

><p><strong>There was nothing. No feeling or understanding. No measure of time could be remembered or made note of. Instead there was only a sense of blissful peace, of perfect balance. The only analogy could be made was that it felt like floating; floating in perfect darkness. Then that perfect equilibrium was seemingly shattered.<strong>

** He could hear voices… dim and far away by thousands of miles, but he could still notice them. He tired to concentrate on the noise, but every time he did he felt a great weight dragging on his mind. It held him back, body and soul. Every time he tried to focus, even reach his hand out to the ambient noise he felt it being restricted, then pulled back with the strength of a thousand men. But then the noise grew louder; louder and more recognizable.**

** He could start make things out: vowels and the sound of mumbled words. He could understand some of the words: he swore he heard _'here' and 'again'_ over and over again. Then as the sound started to grow louder, beginning to overcome his senses, he could begin to see light creeping around the sides of his prison. Creepying, lurking away from the shadows. But then it started to grow bolder, and soon his world started to grow in its own awareness.**

** As though his ears were like dams that had finally succumb to the weight of the rushing water, his senses started to flood in. He could hear the voices with perfect clarity:**

** _"Hold him steady, I think I can feel the lead now."_**

**He opened his eyes, aware that he was lying on his face. He looked around, but could see nothing but the flapping of a tent side. He tried to move, but he could feel nothing down past his neck. Then the physical feeling started to return. He first felt the numbness, like a thousand pin needles pricking his skin. Then he felt the cold. Then the pain. **

**He felt cold metal digging into his back, felt its point pulling and yanking at muscle and tendons. Hot pain shot through his entire body, causing him to seize and shake as he screamed in utter anguish.**

** _"Oh damn, he's awake!" _A man shouted as the man they thought dead came to life in truly horrifying fashion.**

** _"Hold him down!" _another man directly behind him ordered with a tone infused by a desire to save a life, _"If he keeps shaking, the bullet will go deeper into him! Hurry damn you!" _**

**Strong hands then took hold of him, bearing strength to keep him restrained to the table. This however seemed to only inspire him to resist even further. He wrestled and turned as he suddenly sprung life into his hands and legs. He fought and tussled unknowingly; the mind of a wounded animal surged through him and took full grips of his sanity.**

** _"Damn, this kid got the strength of a dozen gah!" _He recoiled and hit the floor as a hand shot forth and struck him across the face. The other men were having equal difficulties, trying to hold him in place while the doctor attempted his work. **

** _"Hellfire, the bullets slipped!" _He cursed aloud. Then the sudden, unexpected happened. The man on the bed's power of awareness had been strengthened by the adrenaline rushing through him, his hearing and smell the most powerful. He could actually hear a new presence rush into the room, could hear the fabric tangled and twisted by the rush of the wind; but this one was somehow different, more elegant. Then the smell confirmed why: it was a woman.**

** In the place where the other man had been felled, he felt hands as gentle as silk touch him. They applied pressure gingerly, and their presence seemed to sooth and calm the panic stricken man. His power of sight had returned, but was still overburdened by a haze that clouded his vision. Yet, it lifted momentarily, granting him the briefest of glimpses of the woman. She flowed and danced like a mirage, but her voice: sweet as the flow of rush stream water, filled his mind with music:**

** _"Calm yourself, stranger. My friend is going to help, shhh it's almost over. Almost over."_**

**_ "Got it!" _**

**Then they darkness claimed him again.**

* * *

><p><strong>Time had no passage. Only the drifting darkness was the constant reminder of his returned life. He made effort to wake but felt he had no eyes. To attempt to hear and feel in the darkness, to try and pierce it's veil; he felt he had no hands to touch, no ears to hear. He floated in motion, but felt no motion. <strong>

** And it was beginning to drive him mad. He tired to scream, but found that his voice had no pitch, no tone; and in that it drove him to despair. Then, as though hearing his plights, his sight was returned as he could begin to see the slivers of light penetrating his prison once more. His hands too returned; he could feel fabrics through his fingers, could feel the dainty touch of cold upon his skin. He could feel the motion of his body at first, and could somehow peer into the world without having to see it, but it was his hearing that returned the last.**

** Barely audible at first, lower then the whisper of a creeping mouse; he heard voices in the gloom. The projections seemed to bounce and twist around and around his prison; the closer he got to understanding them, the further they bounced far and farther away. Yet, he refused to give up. He reached out and final grasped them, the gift of understanding finally gifted to him. But the process of breaking down that gift to its edible parts, its needed components, was slow in coming.**

** At first he could only hear the tone of the voices. There was many, so many coming back and forth. But two were constant; as though they remained close to him. One sounded strained, yet gentle. It was accompanied by the disruption of a rough noise: he suspected a cough. He then recognized the tone to the one he had heard earlier: the one he knew had pulled something out of his back.**

** The other was different, a new voice. This one was hard sounding, full of authority and presence. Now he tried to peer closer, understanding what they were saying. To say the process was difficult would be an understatement; he strained to interpret the distant mumbling. At times, he was only able to catch every third or fourth word spoke, but at one point he was able to hear _"Will he live?"_**

**_ "He will."_**

**Time then drifted again, and at last he gave into it. While in real time it had been hours; it felt like a moment passed when his eyes opened. His vision was clear; he scanned the room before him and started to take stock. He was in a tent, a medical one at that with the arrange of tables and drawers full of surgical equipment. He was in a bed, covered up to his neck in a heavy fur blanket, and he knew he was wearing his long johns; and only half at that.**

** He looked over to his left and noticed his equipment and clothes… well some of them, lying on a chair. He looked around one more time, and concluded he was alone. He made an effort to rise, and hot pain ripped and tore at his lower back. He wanted to scream, but he bit down on his lip to keep himself restrained. He fought and cursed, finally rising from the bed, just as the cold hit him. **

** His breath fogged, his upper body began to shiver. He rubbed his shoulders, trying to get some heat back into his system and then stood. He was tall, standing to a little over six feet with a lean body made strong from living off of the land. He had an angled jaw with rounded cheeks and a straightened nose bearing the marks of abuse. Following a single scar that began just below the nose, it traveled up the bridge past a set of hazel eyes that burned with a strong sense of intelligence, and then up to the edge of his widows peak. **

** Going a little further, he had thick wavy light brown hair cut in a classic clean cut that had been mated by mud and grass, but in the sunlight it shined with a subtle red color. He peered his eyes about, his senses going to full alert as he listened and watched all around. He was in a camp; he could hear the footfall of guards and pack animals all around, and the howl of the wind had died to a subtle moan. Cautiously, he crept to the chair and immediately donned a heavy bomber jacket, bringing some heat to his core. He then took count of what was there: his ruckbag and attached equipment, his boots which he equipped, some scraps of his clothes and… his worn green jump suit. **

** He felt it through his fingers, remembering all the times he had worn it. Then he came across the bullet holes. Half a fingers width across, three in tandem and dried in dark blood. Somehow it brought further pain to his back, as flashes of memory seemed to smack home into his senses. He shook it off and reached into his equipment belt and felt the holster.**

** Just as he did, the crackle of snow under the weight of a boot reported outside the tent. In a flash of lightning, he drew the revolver and leveled it at the approaching figure. He waited, dropping to a crouch and patiently listening to the approach of the prey. Yet the prey stopped, and was playing the opposite of the stalemate. His eyes strained, his thoughts rummaging for an alternate approach, but finding none. **

** Slowly the intruder approached, and the first thing that hit him was the smell: the woman. He kept the revolver up, either way. For the next minute, a waiting game ensued, as the man in the tent patiently waited for her to make a move. Eventually she did, the sound of her turning in step and then beginning a conversation with another: a man from the sounds of it. Then she began walking in the opposite direction and he did not drop his guard until he knew she was gone.**

** He relaxed, placing the revolver back onto the table and began to dress. He removed the boots and coat, and in the matter of a practiced few seconds he garbed the jump suit. The bullet holes weren't the best attraction, but he would deal with that later. Once fully clothed, with the addition of scarf and cap, he clipped on the equipment belt; with the addition holster and pouches. He rearranged his bag, and as he did: something metal came tumbling out.**

** It fell to the floor with a loud _thump, _which caused him freeze like a startled animal. Instinctively, he drew the handgun and once more waited. When it became clear that he alone had heard the sound, he relaxed and holstered the pistol. Then he retrieved the fallen bundle and unwrapped it. There he found the familiar handle of a knife, masterfully crafted with leather from a bygone age and sheltered in an equal beautiful sheath.**

** Further noises from outside interrupted his thoughts and he knew it was time to move. He attached the knife to the belt and then moved to the threshold of the tent, listening to ambient noises around before making his move. A group was moving past his position, so as the last in line came to view, he quietly slipped into rank. He had his scarf over his face, and he presented a casual appearance, avoiding detection. **

** As he marched, his eyes probed about his position. He was in the middle of a sizable camp, with men and women, all armed and from the way they handled their weapons, trained. Many looked like they had seen the worst side of a fight, but had still managed to come out of it undefeated. He continued moving, the bundle of men bobbling past many more tents before he got a view at the horizon. The sun was at midday, and they were in a valley east of the Lourne Balfe, with heavy woods and snow caps to his front and right.**

** Then he spotted a secluded spot to his right, just as the smell of soup bumbled into his senses. When the time was right he moved, scuttling into an empty tent. He looked aloff, and he heard the neigh of pack animals. Yet as he approached the flap, he heard the crunch of snow, and the voice familiar in feminine origin:**

** _"Welcome to the land of the living, sleepy."_**

**He whirled, drawing the revolver and moved into a fighter's crouch. She was the only one there. **

** _"Whoa easy there, stranger," _she soothed, holding her hands forward in a gesture of good intention, _"I'm not gonna harm you."_**

**He wasn't convinced. He narrowed his eyes and peered behind her. Whatever her intentions were, he knew she had come alone. She approached slowly and calmly with a hand stretched out in a gesture of good intentions, but he would not relinquish his fear. It was fear and caution that had kept him alive for so long and he dared not let go lest he drop his guard. **

** But she kept coming, his gaze seeming to drown in the pools of iris that attempted to sooth him. And ultimately they did. As she came so close they could kiss, her hand, slender and familiar in touch, disarmed him. **

** _"There, there," _she whispered like an elderly mother tucking in her children, _"you're safe. You're amongst friends." _**

**His revered blaster felt like a thousand weights pull his hand to surface. Lest he drop it to the snow, he placed it back in its holster. She smiled sweetly, her looks seeming to put his body at ease with her splendor. At least his body was, no his mind was steady and alert as a hunting _Ulfur. _**

** But even as his mind tried to resist, it could not break away from her gaze so he instead decided to study her. The first thing that came to his mind was her figure and form. Though she was bounded up in heavy furs and fabrics, he could tell instinctually that she had slender but strong body. Even better supported was her hands, though gentle in touch, he could see the many scars dotting them. All in all, she had lived a tough life. **

**Then he followed the arm and up to a heart shaped face, with slim complexions and slightly slanted eyes, but with skin as pale as snow and rich brown hair that folded over her shoulders. He guessed Aleut ancestry, but also Caucasic in origin. But what ultimately drew to him were her eyes. They were hard, blessed with a martial toughness and hardiness that granted her immediate respect. Well that and the glint of an SMG hanging from a strap attached to her belt next to a long scabbard, probably for a skinning knife. He returned to her source, conscious that she too had been studying her, but she maintained her posture, her hands not tracing to the butt of the machine-pistol that lay at her hip like he had been expecting.**

**_"I'm Amy," _****she continued, backing away a step or two, _"we found you last night in the snow. You'd been…"_**

**She pointed to his back, and he knew why. Through his concentration, the pain was still there. Like a hot web it crawled over the extent of his body, tugging and burning. But he would not show it. Yet as he was pondering his own collective thought, particularly on what to do next, her voice entered the gloom he had created for himself and shook it:**

**_"I know you don't trust me," _****he watched her carefully, particularly her hands which she kept toe her front, _"Hell, if I had woken up in a bed in place God knows where, I'd probably e the same way. But you don't need to be afraid. This place is full of good people; well at least until they run out of Spirits."_**

**She smiled again, and he couldn't resist a silent laugh of his own. Then she continued:**

**_"But they are good people. But if you want to leave, I won't stop you."_**

**With that she crossed her arms, and leaned slightly on her right side, her face neutral as she watched him closely. The man turned to the otherside of the tent, his thoughts rolling over his escape, his freedom. But by the end of things he knew he couldn't.**

**_"It's nothing personal," _****he spoke at last, his tone heavy with thought but also resignation, _"I… I just haven't had many good experiences with other people."_**

**And with that, her reply was a genuine smile, her eyes dazzling him and its power ran away the darkness that had clouded his own private emotions. **

**_"Well, then let's start over." _****She replied cheerfully, presenting her hand and he shook it heartily.**

**_"Name's Amelia, probably the only girl not mutated to all shit. And you?"_**

**_"Jake." _****He replied humbly. She only shook her head and her smile creased longer curiously.**

**_"What, no awesome deed name? Mebbe the almighty Bear Killer, huh?"_**

**She nudged him slightly him in the arm playfully. He could only offer a soft chuckle as a reply:**

**_"Heh. No, no titles for me. I'm just an honest-to-God wanderer with no real destination in mind."_**

**Behind her own laugh, Amy peered with care deep into Jake's hazel eyes as though she was searching for his soul wrapped under the many barriers in place. She could tell that below the surface of this humble mask that he wasn't entirely telling the truth. The look he bore was one that she had seen only too often and often ended too many times in utter anguish: a man looking for something close to heart. But she did not push it; she knew that he would come clean about himself when he was ready. **

* * *

><p><strong>He stood tall with concentration, and further with considerate and dangerous thought. His brow creased, this hands clenched tight behind his back and his shoulders high in anticipation. He paced the room, constantly peering out at the tent flap into the outside world. And locked away deep inside his mind was the prediction of a battle to come, and the need to prepare for its consequences. Then a knock at the support beam interrupted his meditation:<strong>

** _"Come." _**

**The first to enter was Doc Simmons. Older than him by a good decade, the stooped old man with pure white hair and pocked chin had been his constant confidant with the trade sense he established it twenty years prior. Though old, and approaching the end of his life, his counsel and fearlessness in saying what needed to be said had made him invaluable. The second to enter made him shudder in his bones, worse than seeing a ghost. He had seen those before, but this was like the worse part of his past returning to haunt him. **

* * *

><p><strong>Something was wrapping at the back of Jake's mind ever since Amy had taken his arm and had led him out of that tent. The first was the way everyone had stared at him. The only way he could describe it was they were looking at a dead man walking. Naturally Amy had tried to comfort him, saying that they were just surprised he was still alive. But it did little to change his feelings. <strong>

** Then he had met the man with hair whiter than the freshly fallen snow all about him:**

** _"Welcome back from the dead, kid."_**

**_ "Guess I have you to thank for that." _**** Jake replied with a diplomatic smile. **

** _"Jake this is Doc Simmons. Doc meet your patient." _**

**_ "Glad the Dead Man has a name, kid." _**

**They shook hands heartily, and even for his age his grip had been like a steel vise. **

** _"So how you feeling Dead Man?"_**

**_ "Painfully."_**

**And soon after, with arm still locked in place they entered a tent larger than the others around. Doc knocked on a support pillar and a heavy hard voice replied:**

** _"Come."_**

**They entered, and the first thing to hit him was a series of tables with overlapping scrolls, papers and maps that looked like if a breeze had coming through it would knocked out with an enormous explosion. The second was a separate table that had a folded map, with what looked like routed ink in bright blue, over terrain. But what truly caught his eye was the fact it was stained in blood. **

** _"So Doc, this is the Dead Man?"_**

**Jake peered from the table to the man who was fast approaching him. He was without a doubt a hard man; with broad shoulders and broad complexions topped with a thick mop of blonde hair. But it was the eyes: the path to a man's truer self that actually held him place. Beyond the rich iris blue that suspected the relation to Amy, was the way they seemed to at first size then stare deep into his own. They way they stared however seemed wearied and afraid. **

** Like as though they had seen a ghost through him. And that is what made Jake truly afraid.**

**_"I am Edwin Carter," _****he began, his voice strong and confident despite the shadowed fear dwelling within him, ****_"current head of the Carter Caravan."_**

**_ "Jake." _****He offered humbly.**

**_"Jake…"_**

**_ "Just Jake, sir."_**

**_ "I see," _****Edwin replied with a sense of understanding, but one that skillfully hid his true feelings, ****_"you've already met our Sawbones Doc Simmons," _****he gestured behind him, ****_"and my daughter, Amelia. She's the one who actually found you lying in the snow."_**

**_ "I didn't know," _****Jake replied embarrassed in tone, turning to face a leaning Amy, ****_"I guess that's two I owe you," _****he said with a slight smile. Amy returned the look for a rather foxish grin:**

**_"I'll tell you when you can start repaying me."_**

**_ "Oh," _****his smile broadening to a soft chuckle, ****_"I don't like the sound of that."_**

**_ "And you won't."_**** Edwin declared, bringing the discussion back to point, ****_"We have business to discuss. Have a seat."_**

**He gestured to a folding chair, one that he took cautiously, his eyes scanning the room for what he hoped wouldn't be.**

**_"Simmons, you have other patients to attend?"_**

**_ "I guess I do."_**

**The old man crept out of the room gingerly, trading a last glance at the young man, which caused him gulp his own words.**

**_"And Amy, ensure Ralphait is actually doing his job."_**

**Amy did not leave as ordered, however. She rose to carry the argument, but a warnful glance from Jake ended her argument before it even began. She nodded and slinked out from the room, reluctantly.**

**_"I apologize for that," _****Edwin began, his voice genuine in its meaning, ****_"but I needed to speak with you alone."_**

**_ "Oh?"_**

**_ "Why were you out there, alone I might add, in the first place_****?"**

**_"Does it matter why when I already am?"_**

**_ "None travel in this purgatory we reside in, alone or not, without good reason."_**** He replied tersely, his gaze seeming to rend its way into boy's mind like a suction worm burrowing into the icy ground. In this, Jake knew he could not resist with vague answers. **

**_ "I'm…" _****he began hesitantly, deciding that for once that the best course of action was the truth, ****_"I'm… looking for someone."_**

**_ "Someone close to me." _**** He added. In this Edwin did not push, instead nodded in genuine understanding.**

** _"I'm sorry for being rather suspicious, but we have a situation on our hands that might involve you."_**

**_ "Oh, in what way?"_**

**_ "First things first. What do you remember form the night you were shot?"_**

**_ "Not much," _****he replied slowly, his eyes closing with heavy concentration as he fought for the memories he sought, but only coming short of catching it, _"I remember… running. It was cold that night, but the wind was mild, dying I think. I remember the panic, the fear that was running through me and I was being chased…I… Damn it so hard to recall."_**

**_ "Think specifically," _****Edwin urged, _"do you remember your hunters? What they looked like, how many there were?"_**

**He strained to remember but it felt miles away: **

** _"It's… damn… wait, I remember there were three of them."_**

**_ "Good, but keep going. Tell me more."_**

**_ "They were weathered, rough looking. And…"_**

**_ "What?"_**

**_ "I think there were more of them, a lot more."_**

**_ "Then it's as I expected."_**

**_ "What do you mean?" _****He asked, rising from his chair. Edwin gestured over to a map, one that was covered in faded texts and lines, scribbled over by haphazard notes. But he could clearly see the terrain, the heavy mountains of the Lourne Balfe. Though he thought he could make out the word _"Denali" _over the range.**

** _"This is where we are, just south of the Crosson Peaks," _he pointed to a valley below a series of high mountains and peaks, _"and just to the east is the Umiak Scales," _which appeared to be a long, flat area that Jake suspected to be a frozen river. **

**_"This is a trade route, one that cuts through the mountains to Anchorage?"_**

**_ "Indeed. You're more well versed than you look," _****he complimented, but his expression did not change even as he continued, ****_"we make this route every year: going from the Bethel in the west to Anchorage to the south. Standing between us is the Lourne Balthe. But most traders have discovered routes known only to those who found them in the first place, all to cross the mountains."_**

**_ "I understand," _****Jake replied diplomatically, ****_"but what has this got to do with me?"_**

**_ "Patience," _****his expression shifting to a glimpse of dangerous annoyance, but only for a moment, ****_"without prior knowledge, most Highwaymen—"_**

**_ "Highwaymen?"_**

**_ "Bandits. My point is that we've fought them before, but they always give up the chase once we reach the mountains."_**

**_ "Let me guess," _****Jake interrupted, ****_"there's one following you now."_**

**_ "And you've proved your skills in observation, kid. Yes, there is one shadowing us now as we speak."_**

**_ "And you think they're the same ones who gunned me down?"_**

**Edwin nodded. He then moved over to the other map, one smeared in blood, and gestured Jake over. When he approached he noticed the difference right away, it was hand drawn, and the script was foreign, probably the tongue of a backwater tribe.**

**_"The night we found you, we encountered a scouting party hiding in the foot hills. Brutish mob couldn't even hide in the middle of a blizzard! But, we found this map on one of them. It details the route we usually take." _**

**_ "So you're thinking a spy?"_**

**_"Most definitely."_**

* * *

><p><strong>1500 hoursFoothills of the Crosson Peaks**

* * *

><p><strong>He had dreaded coming here. In the back of his mind, he'd wished he had died with the rest of the party. But he hadn't. Now he was going to have to pay the price. And that price was undoubtedly going to be death.<strong>

** Paraded through the camp by armed guard, stoned and spat upon by his former comrades, he truly wished for death. Here, there was no excuse for failure. Now he could only wish for a death without humiliation, but he knew that would be a mercy. As he was marched, his mind thought back to another man, Gregori, who had failed to capture a doctor from some backwater village. He had pleaded that the village was too strong for them, that he would never have been able to take him alive alone.**

** It hadn't mattered. He could still remember the awful stench as he was set on fire. Then they had rode into the village and razed it to the ground. Now it was his turn. His heart stopped when he was marched into the crimson tent. **

** _"Poor Hadrian," _a voice like the vibration of steel called out to him, _"why did you have to fail."_**

**_ "They were more observant than we thought. We—"_**

**_ "Enough."_**

**The blood in his veins went cold as Dugan approached. He was tall and menacing, forty of age and face built into a permanent scowl. Accompanying him was another man, smaller in stature. He was draped in cloth and fur of black gypsum, overlaying like a cloaked as it complete covered him to the extent of his boot. He had a rather foreign complexion, the look of a man from the east if not obviously shown by his long, drooping mustache and a Khanic fur cap that burned with a single red star, faded but still sown into primmel of the hat. **

** _"Your mission was simple, Hadrian." _Dugan began, his voice oddly not full of rage, but even seemed to reside with sympathy, _"But alas, you had to be discovered. Now that damned Edwin knows we are here in the mountains. Why did you have to fail me?"_**

**Before Hadrian could respond, the glint of a sabre ended his life with a single stroke. His body stood for a moment before collapsing to the floor, the severed head rolling away like deflated ball. Dugan stared angrily at the Easterner, shivering in profuse rage but standing stock still. The Easterner remarked him with a rather casual look as he sheathed his Dao blade.**

** _"He failed, Dugan," _his voice flat like scrapes of obsidian upon steel, _"because he was weak. But now he will serve a greater purpose."_**

**_ "Alas, you are right Azazel," _****Dugan sighed, returning to an ancient map onced used in greater number a near century before; _"the man you seek was spotted being carried away by Edwin's men. I have little doubt he is alive."_**

**_ "He fought ferociously," _****Azazel remarked, approaching the map and gazing at the amass number of mountains standing between him and his goal, _"we no longer have the element of surprise, Dugan, and from what you tell me about Edwin, he will not go down easily."_**

**_ "No he won't Azazel. Even though we outnumber him by a good score, his men possess automatics. You told me once that you fought such enemies in the West, what would you do in my situation?"_**

**_ "Catch them unawares in an ambush, but I do not know your land well, Dugan, where would you have an attack initiated?"_**

**_ "Here," _****he pointed to a series of mountains that formed like a demented mouth, _"at the Maw of Risator. The ice is thinner than anywhere else. But I am to assume that you want the boy alive?"_**

**_ "Da."_**

**_ "Yet you have not told me why."_**

**_ "You needn't know, muy drog. My employers paid you well, and when you sack this caravan you shall be a—what is the expression—a king."_**

**And in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Dugan turned, unsurprised to find him marching out into the snow. **

** _"What have I gotten myself into?" _ **


	3. Chapter 2: Nov 27th, 2099

Chapter Two

November 27th, 2099, the Umiak Scales

Formerly Kahiltna Glacier

* * *

><p><strong>The heavy report of the revolver was like the echoing sound of churchbells ringing at midday. So much that it drowned out the sound of glass shattering on impact as the 1917 Schofield commenced its accurate, and deadly work. Jake stood a good 100 paces from the target, his legs apart and off as he breathed slow, and easy. He depressed the trigger and the recoil felt like he was firing a brick, but his aim had been true. Across from him, another object, this time a can, had been rend apart. This brought a satisfactory smile to Jake's lips and the look of respect in Amy's. <strong>

**The Schofield had been his father's, his prized gift since his sixteenth birthday three years past. It had been hefty, and the aim had been slightly off as was the sights. But he didn't mind, he had come across dozens of other pistols before, and he wouldn't trade any of them for his. Some were larger calibers, others automatics. But none had the power, the control or the ease as his did. It was his to keep, and his he would take to his grave. **

**To Amy, standing a pace to the side, she found a new sense of admiration in him. While there were many in camp who could make the shot easily with any long barrel, none were quite the natural with a handgun as Jake was. **

**_A natural, _****she thought to herself, indeed, he was fast becoming a natural at most things. He had spent less than three days with the traders and he was quickly becoming a text book star recruit. He was fast, strong, and highly intelligent. He even had an understanding of trade, even how to read and write. Both were incredibly rare in the wasteland, only often taught in the Founder communities.**

**Of which he was obviously not of. She had been to the Foundries, had even met one of their Fabricator-Chiefs. They were… an odd bunch. That was the best way to put it. They possessed the knowledge and resources to mass produce the bullets and weaponry for any mercenary army, but were culturally unable to use them themselves.**

**She remembered the lesson that her father had taught her:**

**_The Founders are never to be relied upon. Trust them to create the supply, but never anything else. Especially, Amy, never the killing. _**

**The impact of slug against the ****_ping _****of tin threw her from her enclosed stupor. In the split second as the tin began to fall from its post, three more rounds echoed in the valley. The result was three high branches high in the tree severed and lumped to the floor.**

**_"_****_Now you're just showing off!" _****she replied to the demonstration with a sly smile. He looked at her once, and then a blur of fabric followed the path of the glint of arcing silver. The dull ****_thunk _****and the long skinning knife found itself buried in the bark of the stump, a white-tailed squirrel it's unfortunate victim. There were no words to be said, rather the glimpse of a slight grin.**

**_"_****_I see I have nothing to teach you." _****Her voice mellowed by the others own skill.**

**_"_****_Oh, I'm sure you still much more to show me," _****he replied with a cocky grin. A smile was returned, then a fist.**

**_"_****_Ow!" _**** He cried, messaging his shoulder, ****_"what was that for?" _**

**_"_****_Dakhin oroldono baga scamp." _****She replied with a fox's grin that utterly melted his heart down to the core.**

* * *

><p><strong>He watched with eyes strained from old age. He felt old, his bones like lead and his long honed body jelly. He was barely in his forties, but he felt ancient. It wasn't a feeling he had been used to, and it had come upon him almost as spontaneously as the young man down in the valley. He watched as his daughter started to grow closer and closer to this young man. Him coming here had reopened old scars long buried, and the worst part was that Jake did not even seem to know.<strong>

**_"_****_He looks like him; Hell even acts a little like him." _**

**Simmons had been standing at the door for perhaps a minute, watching Edwin both as his close friend and as his own physician. It had been a long time since he had seen the tall blonde brood like this, perhaps some twenty years.**

**_"_****_He doesn't know me, or any of us for that matter," _****Edwin replied, never removing his gaze from the valley. To this Simmons simply shrugged:**

**_"_****_You know he blamed himself for what happened, probably more than you blame him. You really think he'd want his son running into us?"_**

**_"_****_I don't know. I just don't know what to do, Basil."_**

**_"_****_I say we hold on to him. He may be young, but the boys sharp and strong."_**

**_"_****_Yes I just saw that. Three hundred paces, with a revolver at that too."_**

**_"_****_Didn't he tell you that he was looking for someone? Think they're looking for HIM?"_**

**_"_****_Makes sense. Old man's got more enemies than my arm."_**

**_"_****_And they're working with Dugan Blood-gull. That much is obvious."_**

**_"_****_Working with? I'm thinking more likely being controlled. Either way, we're going to need to be on our toes. Dugan knows he can't match our firepower, not sense we got the 16's in our last payment."_**

**_"_****_Ambush then?" _**

**_"_****_Yeah, but when? And where?"_**

**The conversation was then interrupted with the thump of boots slapping the muddy ground. A young boy of about 16 spirited past Simmons, and stopped to attention. Panting he tried to give his report to Edwin:**

**_"_****_Sir… Shep… _****_S_****hepherds****_…"_**

**_"_****_Catch your breath, Taq, and then give me your report."_**

**_"_****_Yes sir." _****he replied thankfully smiling as he did. Taqqiqjuat had the plump look of an Inuit, rounded with tanned skinned and thick black hair. He had been recruited from his tribe some two years ago, Edwin's caravan being personal friends. Despite a contradicting appearance, Taq almost immediately took on the job of a message runner. To his family, it was not very surprising: Taqqiqjuat translated meant Moon Runner.**

**Swallowing a final gulp of air, he straightened himself and made his report:**

**_"_****_Sir, _**_**S****hepherds**_**_ sent me up here. Jetson and Raq's patrol have not returned."_**

**_"_****_How long ago was their shift?" _****Simmons asked for Edwin, both men's faces growing further and further with concern rising.**

**_"_****_About a half-hour, maybe?"_**

**They looked at each other and nodded, knowing one way or another that this was not going to be good.**

**_"_****_No chances. Taq, go back to _**_**S****hepherds**_**_ and tell him to assemble a search party. Simmons, get everybody back into camp now. Tell them to drop whatever they're doing and get here as fast as they can. Then I want you to do a head count."_**

**_"_****_Understood. And might we bring Jake along?"_**

**_"_****_Why?"_**

**_"_****_Amy told me he has the makings of a good tracker. I wanna see what he can do."_**

**_"_****_Do it then."_**

* * *

><p><strong>Night was approaching fast. They had been looking for the pair for hours now, and still no sign of them. Hours before, Jake and Amy had been conversing on what to do next when the dull <strong>**_bong _****of an old bell sounded throughout the valley.**

**_"_****_One…" _****Amy whispered, fear beginning to rise within her. Then her fear became realized when two more came ringing. At this her face paled.**

**_"_****_What's going on?" _****Jake asked as he took the step towards her, his hand resting on her shoulder, ****_"_****_Amy, are you okay?"_**

**She then took his hand hard and began dragging him as she started running up the hill: **

**_"_****_Three tolls means somebody's missing! They're calling us all back!"_**

**Now the very same fear had now infected Jake's mind, but he kept it at bay. He remembered the bloodied map, detailing the route they would take and he began to wonder if the enemy had finally caught up with them. But then that fear turn to resolution, and then to grim eagerness. Institutionally, his hand went to the butt of the revolver in its holster, his mind now racing to the possibility of revenge. Not just revenge, he knew, but answers. The answers to the reason of his death. **

**Now they had made the valley and everybody else out on the perimeter were swarming up the path to the center of the camp. Eventually, they came to the bell stand, and the man ringing it. **

**_"_****_Alright everybody gather round, gather round."_**

**_ "_**_**S****hepherds**_**_, what's going on?"_**

**_ "_****_Three tolls, has somebody gone missing?"_**

**_ "_****_Is it Dugan? Is it—"_**

**_ "_****_Everybody quiet the Hell down!" _****Edwin roared as he marched into the assembled camp and took his place at the stand. Jake then noticed that the armed guards were not here at the assemblage. That alone told him how serious the situation was. Then Amy stepped towards her father and asked the needed question:**

**_"_****_Father, what is going on?"_**

**_ "_****_Everybody, listen to me. Not a half hour before, Jetson and Raq's patrol failed to check in. Now don't panic. We all know that they may just be late, but as you all know Dugan is shadowing us. We can't be certain what happened, so we've got to find them. Now Shepherds is going to assign three man teams to comb the woods. _**_**S****hepherds**_**_, carry on."_**

**As ****_S_****hepherds**** began to give his instruction, Edwin stepped from the stand and exited the crowd. Jake followed, conscious that Amy was right behind him. **

**_"_****_Did you get the head count, Basil?"_**

**_ "_****_Excluding the guard, we're missing three."_**

**_ "_****_Three, but—Well I see this conversation isn't private anymore."_**

**With that, the youngest stepped forward. **

**_"_****_We're missing three?" _****Amy inquired, confused, ****_"_****_But I thought—"_**

**_ "_****_Unless the third is the spy."_**

**With that, three sets of eyes turned to Jake, who simply shrugged.**

**_"_****_You said it yourself sir, only your caravan knows the route you would take. Otherwise how would they have a map detailing it?"_**

**_ "_****_What I was thinking, kid," _****Basil supported, gesturing to the crowd ahead, ****_"_****_They can't know, you two. They're already jittery as it is."_**

**_ "_****_Last thing we need is a witchhunt." _****Edwin added, gazing ahead into the trees.**

**_"_****_We can trust _****_S_****hepherds****_," _****Amy interjected calmly, looking straight in her father's eyes, ****_"_****_he's worked with us long enough."_**

**Ironically, the same man entered the conversation. Explanations were brief, and the tall black man wasn't very surprised.**

**_"_****_Makes sense. But it could be anybody. It could even be Jetson or Raq or maybe even both."_**

**_ "_****_Precisely. When we find them, we're going to need to question them."_**

**_ "_****_Not gonna be easy," _****_S_****hepherds**** commented, ****_"_****_Raq's got a brother. Rumors are gonna start."_**

**At this, Edwin sighed:**

**_"_****_We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now us five are the only ones who knows about this, and it needs to stay that way."_**

**_ "_****_I'll take Amy and Jake with me then. I'll keep everybody in contact with everybody else, and if they do find them, I'll have 'em brought back here."_**

**_ "_****_Good."_**

**That had been hours before, and the darkness was fast falling. About fifteen search teams had entered the area and none of them had come up with anything. The woods to the west on the slopes of the mountains were becoming menacing, and Jake couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. They advanced up to a ridge before ****_S_****hepherds**** stopped at its crest, removing his ancient radio:**

**_"_****_All teams check in."_**

**_ "_****_Negative in this area."_**

**_ "_****_Can't find anything. Not even a trail."_**

**_ "_****_I don't think they're in my area."_**

**And the rest went exactly the same.**

**_"_****_It's like they've just disappeared!" _****Amy exclaimed, kneeling close to the ground and examining the mixture of thawed snow and moss, ****_"_****_Look this place hasn't even been disturbed!" _**

**_ "_****_And this area is the one that they were supposed to be patrolling. There should a trail up here somewhere."_**

**_ "_****_Maybe we're not looking in the right place—aghh!"_**

**Suddenly, Jake was gone. Amy whirled around her but he wasn't there; he'd been walking not less than six feet behind her. She drew her Parker-Hale PDW, swinging it around in a combat stance and swept the area behind her. ****_S_****hepherds**** was right next to her and turned, covering his avenue with his Armalite Carbine. There was nothing to be seen anywhere in the gloom of the falling hour.**

**_"_****_Jake!" _****she called out frantically, her voice echoing in the valley and bouncing off of the trees. It was a minute before they got a reply:**

**_"_****_I'm down here!"_**

**They rushed to the edge, but carefully with blasters at the ready. Amy peered over the ridge and down a gully twenty feet down a sloping incline. Jake was standing below them.**

**_"_****_What happened?" _****_S_****hepherds**** called down.**

**_"_****_I slipped on a root sticking out of the ground and I rolled down here!"_**

**_ "_****_You hurt?"_**

**_ "_****_Nothing serious, there was a lot of down here and it broke my fall! I think my stitches may have broke though!"_****He called up. Micheals looked over at Amy, then realizing she was mentally measuring the distance and what would be needed to climb down. After a second, she holster her SMG and removed the long coil of rope around her middle and then removed a pocket knife:**

**_"_****_It's about twenty feet down, and there are no rocks down there," _****she explained as she peered around for a tying point, ****_"_****_I think he could climb."_**

**_ "_****_Alright I'll give you a hand."_**

**But before they could make a move, Jake called back up to them:**

**_"_****_There are three sets of tracks down here!"_**

**_ "_****_Three, can you identify them?" _****Amy called down to him. Down below in the gully, it was starting to get seriously dark. He tried but he could barely make out the details. All he knew was that they were made by boot treads.**

**_"_****_No, but they're human. And it hasn't snowed for the past two days, so they might be fresh."_**

**_ "_****_Alright," S_****hepherds called back down to him, ****_"_****_you're down there. It's up to you, what do want us to do?"_**

**_ "_****_Stay up there. I'll follow this gully and see where it leads me."_**

**_ "_****_We'll find a way down." _****_S_****hepherds**** replied as he began moving off to the east, following the highground. Amy lingered a second, peering one last time into the gully:**

**_"_****_Jake be careful!"_**

**_ "_****_Ain't I always?"_**

**Though she could barely see him, Amy swore she could see him smile.**

* * *

><p><strong>The air had become stale and cold; colder than it had been a scant few minutes before. The atmosphere grew heavy on his shoulder; the stillness, the lack of noise began to set his nerves on edge. He fought for control; hone his senses, but he knew. Death had been here.<strong>

**_"_****_If she has, where is she then?" _****he asked the forest around him, but he knew the answer. He pressed forward, the ancient flashlight flickering in and out every twenty seconds, but he had long sense become accustomed to it. No; now his mind was what was ahead of him: only the reflected light glinted the black carbon of his revolver as he advanced. The trail had surprisingly become clearer as the night fell, his eyes at last becoming adjusted to the darkness. There were three tracks; but one was older than the other two. Two were following one.**

**_"_****_Well hello, what's this?"_**

**Then the light reflected off of the liquid, and he knew instinctually what it was.**

**_"_****_Blood. But whose is it?"_**

**He got his answer. As he dipped his gloved hand into it, he knew it was still fresh. Then his torch caught the glint of a trail paved in more crimson. His stomach tightened, and he readied himself. He listened to the air, but heard nothing. Then he heard a muffled thud, barely audible, in the distance.**

**He moved, his blaster held low as he followed the trail. His eye caught the shine of an ejected casing on the ground, then more. Nine millimeters, but they were strange. They were the right size but they were slightly shorter. Then he spotted two Carbines on the ground, a hole just below the ejector had splintered the weapons apart. **

**Things were truly starting to get strange. He was dealing with a good shot, no doubt. But the valley would have echoed the sounds. Then his mind went back to the casing and his mind remembered what they were. Subsonic ammunition: quieter than a whisper. **

**But that ammunition was rare in these lands. **

**_"_****_What the Hell am I dealing with?" _****he whispered to himself. Then he spotted him. Lying face down in puddle of his own blood and hidden in the shrubbery. Jake approached slowly, his hearing primed to their fullest but he heard nothing. Going to his knees, he kept the revolver point at the tree as he began to examine the body. He discovered three well placed bullets in man's back…**

**Identical to the ones in his. **

**_"_****_He's here."_**

**He could feel the anger rising within; like water boiling to exploding proportions. But he told himself to be calm; to focus his rage into steel. He would have his revenge. **

**_"_****_Gah!"_**

**He heard the cry in the distance, followed by a heavy ****_thwak_****. He silenced the torch and went low; his blaster held at the hip and his knife at his side and began moving forward at a snail's pace. He watched his footing carefully, avoiding a sudden ****_snap _****of a twig lest it disturb the eerie, delicate balance of the night and reveal his position. A minute went by; then he found them, illuminated in the pale moonlight.**

**_"_****_How many more are coming?! Do you understand me, svin'ya!?"_**

**The harsh, foreign voice was then followed by a vicious ****_thwack _****of the butt of a pistol smashing across the kneeling man's face.**

**_"_****_Nobody! Please, we came alone; we deviated off of our path!"_**

**_ "_****_Lies!"_**

**He struck him once more, and the man's scarf swung from his face; revealing a man paler than ice, a long mustache curled around the lower part of his mouth and eyes as black as slate. He was dressed in long black furs, a dark papakha hat that burned with a red stone set in its center. All of this brought sudden memories streaking across his brain. He seized, his hands clutching his head as events a week prior began playing out like still images. He felt the panic; the fear growing within him as the three figures approached like dark shadows in the white-out on top of the mountain. **

**The memories were not happening in real time, rather in continuing chunks blurred and hazed, moving across his mind like a slideshow. They approached fast, the one in the middle raising his arm. As the storm cleared for a brief moment, he saw the shape of a Makarov PM. The memories blurred, but he could feel the adrenaline rushing into him at the chorus of battle. But at last he saw the man, and he could remember the eyes made of slate before the memory went black.**

**He rose, his weapon raised and a snarl reached across his face as his eyes burned with ire. While his presence was surprising, and above all menacing, Azazel had enough time to react. Swiftly, he grabbed the battered Westerner and placed the Makarov against the side of his head.**

**_"_****_Back!" _****he shouted, his finger easing onto the trigger, ****_"_****_or I kill the man."_**

**_ "_****_Like you killed me?" _**

**Azezel was stunned by the question. Fear began to fill his typically arrogance. But then he smiled as though he hadn't a care in the world:**

**_"_****_So, I see you did survive. You were stronger than you looked."_**

**Jake continued moving forward, his revolver held rock steady, forcing Azazel to retreat slowly with every advancing step:**

**_"_****_Strong enough to end you."_**

**_ "_****_Do not credit yourself,_** **_rebenok. I have killed men greater than you. Now back away, or he dies."_**

**He pressed the Makarov firmly against the battered man's head. Jake had been in a situation likes this once, some years prior. She had been barely younger than he had been; perhaps a few scant weeks after his father had given him the Schofield. It had happened so fast that he barely remembered any of it. But he remembered her eyes; wide with utter terror as she knew that she was going to die and there was nothing he could do to save her. **

**All he had been able to do was avenge her. **

**_Don't give in to him; he'll kill us both if you do. _****The battered man did not need say the words, but the look he bore was all that was needed. Unlike the girl, this man had no fear. In the bottom of his soul, he had made his peace and he knew this was only going to end one way. **

**_"_****_Avenge me!" _****he shouted, and in a flurry of motion he struck the Azazel in the ribs with the butt of his elbow. Then he swung round, trying to catch the man in the face with a hard punch. Instead he found only death. There was hardly any sound. Perhaps the only thing that could be heard was the impact, a dull ****_thud _****as the bullet tore into him. He stood for a perilous second, his eyes flickering the last light of his life, and then he fell to the floor.**

**Azazel had been both stunned and distracted by the Westerners futile effort. Had he not been, he might have been able to avoid the .45 caliber round that struck him in the shoulder and sent him falling to the ground. Jake had moved faster than he had ever had; his revolver held in knuckles that drained to white and his blade in the other. Despite the pain, Azazel threw the Makarov in the air and caught it with his left hand. Then he fired at the approaching Westerner. **

**There was a second delay, and that was all Jake needed. He dove to the ground, dodging the 9mm by inches than leaping to a fallen log, firing blind as he went. Bullets struck the place where Jake had been not one second ago, sending up great chunks of snow in a marvelous display of splendid white. Azazel rose and began firing into the log, chunks of dead wood splintering as the rounds impacted. Three rounds were fired and then were followed by a loud ****_click. _**

**Jake rose and fired. He had only a half second to aim, the bullet striking him in the other shoulder and sending Azazel flying back to the ground. Azazel had been in the midst of reloading when the bullet had struck him. Painfully, he pulled back the slide and loaded a round into the chamber. He fired three rounds into the log to keep the Westerner suppressed, then he aimed high. **

**Taking cover, Jake waited patiently for the firing to cease, knowing the log could take it. Three rounds followed and a second delay occur; prompting him to rise to finish off the outlander. Then he saw the glint of a round and he ducked, but not in time nor in the right direction. The round slammed into a thicket above him, dropping a massive chunk of wood and snow upon him, sending Jake to the floor. Azazel rose; handgun in hand to finish his good work, when he heard voices in the distance.**

* * *

><p><strong>The report of the firearms echoed in the valley. Anybody who was within a five mile radius heard them loud and clear. But the first to react were the closest.<strong>

**_"_****_This way!" _****Amelia shouted as a speed she had not truly known took hold of her as she sprinted down the hill, her SMG held in hands tightened in a death-grip. **

**_"_****_Damnit, Amy! Come back!" _**

**_S_****hepherds**** ran with all the speed his body could muster but found he simply could not keep up with the younger female. Amelia had a good lead on him, leaping and rolling up and over fallen logs and heavy frozen stones in her path. To her mind, everything had been blocked out, only the sounds of gunfire drew her along. Now she had crossed a path and noticed the body to her left. Only at this did she end her advance.**

**_"_****_Jetson…" _****she whispered painfully. By this point, ****_S_****hepherds**** had managed to catch up, panting heavily with the air refusing to return to his lungs.**

**_"_****_Damn, girl. Probably shoulda been a messenger—Oh, shit. Is that Jetson?"_**

**_ "_****_Subsonic Nines." _****Amelia replied, holding up the copper casing.**

**_"_****_Silenter than a Crytean Fox," _****he nodded, ****_"_****_then who are we hearin'?"_**

**They got their answer. There was another echoing round fired, this time not too far away. This sent the duo back into their haste, sprinting to the sound with their weapons raised. Amelia was the very first to reach the scene, Micheals trailing far behind.**

**_"_****_This time you die _****_rebenok!"_**

**She took it all in an instant. A foreigner standing before Jake, a pistol raised upon him. All her combat instincts rushed through her veins and she raised her PDW.**

**_"_****_Get away from him!"_**

**She opened fire. Azazel had heard the two Americans arriving, their haste obliterating any chance of him not. When he had turned his head, his view was filled by a splendid young woman with an unusual blaster held tight in both hands, pointed at him.**

**_"_****_Der'mo!" _****he cursed. He leapt from the log, somersaulting high into the air as the burst of fire shredded the log. Amy followed him as he practically flew in the air, continuously firing as she did. Azazel continued his decent, allowing the gravity to carry him to the ground, landing squarely and then launching a vicious kick into Amelia's midsection. She slumped to the ground, her weapon flying from her grasp as she clutched her stomach. **

**_"_****_Brave of you, devushka," _****he chuckled, standing before her, ****_"A pity it is—"_**

**_ "_****_Shut up!" _****she screamed; drawing her throwing knife, a long seven inch blade built from the antler of a buck she had fell some seven years prior, and threw it. Inhumanly, the Easterner stepped to the side as the blade flew in the air; its death song playing verse as it slammed into a tree. **

**_"_****_How?" _****she gasped as she started crawling away, ****_"That's not possible!"_**

**_ "_****_Not humanly possible, you mean."_**

**He smirked at her, revealing in her fear. But then he heard a twig snap behind him, and he rolled to his side. No sooner and 5.56 mm rounds would have buried into his back. He moved like smoke, dodging the rain of fire that practically danced around him as he maneuvered away into the forest.**

**_"_****_All teams bring in the pursuit dogs! We have an intruder on move heading east!" _****_S_****hepherds**** shouted into his radio as he took off in pursuit. Amy rose, pain shooting up from her groin to her upper chest, but she made the effort anyway. A second later, three more men arrived bearing automatics. She pointed to the forest and they took off as hunters pursuing their prey. **

**_"_****_Jake…" _****she groaned, slumping over to the fallen log. She slapped away the debris, and in doing so stirring the fallen son. **

**_"_****_Amy?" _****he crocked, her fingers feeling the sizable purple bump that was forming over his scalp. Their eyes met, and he smiled:**

**_"_****_How many times do you need to save me before you can call it even?"_**

**_ "_****_Oh, shut up." _**

**_ "_****_Try and make me."_**

**Before more could be said, ****_S_****hepherds**** and the search party returned.**

**_"_****_We lost him. Son of a bitch could move like smoke; we couldn't even find a clear trail."_**

**Pulled to their feet, Jake's eyes still burned with uncontrollable rage that even made the hardened Micheals cringe slightly. **

**_"_****_He's the one. The one who killed me. And the one who killed him."_**

**_ "_****_Raq? Jake, what happened?"_**

**_"_****_I… I couldn't save him."_**

* * *

><p><strong>2100 hours, the Crosson Peaks<strong>

* * *

><p><strong><em>"<em>****_You were reckless and stupid, Azazel." _**

**The pain seared and spread throughout his entire chest, the knot crushed as the Easterner bit with heavy force. At last, the pliers slid back, clutching the .45 slug tightly that shined in his blood.**

**_"_****_I had to see for myself, Hadrian." _****he gasped, the surgeon dropping the hunk of metal into a bowl and cleaning off the pliers.**

**_"_****_I will never understand you obsession with this child, Azazel. From what you described, you could have easily killed the boy, and the other two who arrived as well."_**

**With this, Azazel grinned with the expression of a hunter obsessed with a long hunt.**

**_"_****_You Westerners… you have little sport. The boy is the key to his father, but I wanted to see if he lives up to the mantle of his family."_**

**_ "_****_And did he?"_**

**_ "_****_He has his spirit. And undeniable rage to quell all other vengeance."_**

**The surgeon applied the thickened sap that burned as it contacted the wound. Then he pulled out his scalpel and began to enlarge the wound. Azazel bit down on to the knot harder than before as a scream escaped his clenched teeth. Then came the pliers.**

**_"_****_You were very nearly killed tonight, Azazel. What mantel was worth proving?"_**

**Then the second hunk of metal was dropped next to its twin. With an arctic smile, the Easterner spoke a single word:**

**_"_****_Marshall." _**


	4. Chapter 3: Nov 29th, 2099

Chapter Three

November 29th, 2099, the Umiak Scales

East of Mt. Foraker

* * *

><p><strong>The caravan was on the move once more, and standing from the top of the overlaying hill; Jake could truly see its size. It spanned some quarter mile with the assemblage of packs of mules, oxen and riders from up and down the trail. Off to the left, he could see a duo of snow sleighs pulled by a team of a dozen white coated dogs each. Then there was everyone else. Most of Edwin's people were transversing the massive snow plain just west of the Umiak scales using snow skis.<strong>

**Most of these were armed with uniformed M-16's, their eyes alert to any motion over the boundless number of hills and mountains to their left and right. It had been two days sense they had buried the two men, and the group had been placed on hyper alert. In addition he was still very conscious that the mole had not been discovered. So he kept his eyes open, watching everybody and where they moved whenever they stopped for a food break. But even with the assistance of Simmons, Shepherds and Amy; it had been a very difficult endeavor. **

**Granted, most of the day hadn't been filled with paranoia. Instead, it had been rather embarrassing and in some cases: painful. Even in the north, he had never learned how to use skis and Amy had to teach him the hard way. As they maneuvered down the valleys' newly snowed inclines, many an hour had been spent to get him used to the awkward tools. Eventually he had, but not before doubling over and slamming into the ground multiple times and then barreling over like a rolling stone, much to everyone's merriment. **

**But that wasn't the only thing that was on his mind.**

**_"_****_There you are." _****He whispered to himself. As fates had turned out, the man whom he had failed to save: Raq; had a brother named Maq. Ever sense the burial, he had felt the boy's eyes on the back of his head and he knew something was going to come of it. Even now, he could see him in the valley below. He stood a half foot shorter then himself, but stocked with a long honed physique added by his curled black hair.**

**In his observations, he noticed that Maq almost always surrounded himself three companions. Two were twins, Wolf and Dog, short and stocky with flowing brown hair that both seemed to mirror each other's actions. Big one was Big Bear, big and tall, but clumsy-as-hell. And the one to lead them?**

**_"_****_Rat."_**

**_ "_****_Whachya doing?" _****Amy called from behind him. Without turning, he responded:**

**_"_****_Watching."_**

**_ "_****_For whom?"_**

**_ "_****_For everybody."_**

**With the exception of Shepherds, Amy was the only one who was even willing to come close to him without looking at him the wrong way. He knew why. The whole situation stunk of Jonah, from his father's Bible. And he knew it was also common sense. Why be around a fuse when the match was just a breath away?**

**_"_****_It's not your fault." _**

**Amy voice had broken his concentration, and the prolong silence that had been building. At last he turned to her, his eyes meeting hers if either hadn't been covered by heavy duty goggles. **

**_"_****_There was not a whole lot you could've done. Hell what any of us would've done."_**

**_ "_****_I know. Doesn't change anything, or what's coming."_**

**With this, she comforted his shoulder with her hand, then pulling on it slightly as she turned down the hill:**

**_"_****_C'mon, let's catch up with the others."_**

**And with that they slide down the hill into the growing crowd. **

* * *

><p><strong>He'd spotted him coming down from the hill, and the very sight of him made his blood churl. Worse still were the memories, his mind being almost completely consumed by his brother's death. It plagued him, becoming full on nightmares when he closed his eyes. Even for a moment.<strong>

**_"_****_Best do this carefully_****,****_ Maq. He's gotten pretty close to Amy." _**

**He nodded, pressing more effort into his stroke and increasing his speed as he swept down the snow. He wanted revenge. No, he needed revenge, if not for himself then for Raq. They had grown up together in a world with no mother or father. Raq had been the older of the two, always watching out for his younger brother and in many cases had been his conscious.**

**Now he was alone. Sure, he had his pack. But they were not truly his family, and in his grief he had found a culprit for his pain. Before he had largely been apathetic about Jake: the newcomer, the ****_deadman walking. _****But that had been before all of this, and he knew HE had been responsible for his death.**

**Over and over again his mind reflected over what He had said:**

**_"_****_I couldn't save him. I wasn't fast enough… I just couldn't save him."_**

**He had been part of the search party, and ironically had been the last to reach the scene. He had wailed, broken body and soul at the sight of Raq's cold corpse. Now that sorrow had been replaced by rage. But he knew he had to be smart about what he was going to do. More than anything, he knew he had to ensure that Amy was not caught in the blast. **

* * *

><p><strong>He heard it before he saw it: a distant howl that was akin to a scream. And when he turned, his thoughts turned cold. It was several miles off, but it would close the distance in a matter of seconds. His mind went into reaction mode, all reason thrown out the window as muscle memory took over. He grabbed Amy, and swung her around him as he locked his skis into ground and then rammed the hikelites into the snow. Before Amy could spout a question, she heard it.<strong>

**_"_****_Whiteout!" _****Somebody up ahead screamed as the wind slammed into them. Jakes entire world was turned white as he was practically pulverized by the pure force of the sudden storm. He tried to raise his head, but he felt the wind slam and push it back to the floor. His eyes scanned around, but any visibility was cut down to maybe a couple yards in any directions. Then it lifted for just a perilous second and he saw him, flailing as the wind rammed and threw him over the hill and down the side of the hill. **

**He knew they were travelling along the rim of a bowl, the steep sides emptying away in an endless abyss. He had a window of maybe five seconds. **

**_"_****_Go get him!" _****Amy shouted over the wind. Unbeknownst to him, she had seen the man plummeting to his doom, and in an instinctual moment attached a D-ring climbing cabal to Jakes safety harness. She gave him a push, driving enough momentum to his stride that he could actually move quickly enough. Jake went to his belly, spreading his arms and letting gravity slide him down the side of the gully, sliding from side to side to maneuver around the undergrowth sticking out of the snow. Up the hill, as the cord loosened and unwound, Amy attached the last of D-rings first to herself and then to her buried hikelite, then wrapping the coil of rope thrice around the metal rod. **

**Now he could hear him. He had allowed his mind to enter his active phase, a sense of equilibrium honing his senses to a knifes edge to where he could pierce the screaming white veil that surrounded him and gaze beyond it. The man below him had maybe a handful of seconds before he went over. He threw his arms over his head and to the front, throwing more power and speed into his slide. His mind, without given thought, measured the distance; the seconds ticking down like an ancient clock as he drew closer and closer to his target, his hand an arm span away from the other.**

**_"_****_Hold on!" _****He screamed. He lurched forward, grabbing the man's collar just as the two went over the edge. Amy felt the drag of weight pulling at her shoulders as she dug her feet into the snow until they found a grip, grunting with the effort as she pulled and strained at the rope as it dragged and strained at the hikelite buried a foot into the ground. Below in the gully, time slowed down to a matter of nanoseconds as the two were in momentary freefall. Jake drew from his belt his pickax and buried it onto the lip of the incline, holding the two men perilously as he strained to hold onto the man's collar.**

**_"_****_Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" _****The man below him screamed as his eyes grew wide with utter terror, his hands reaching up and grabbing his unknown savior's safety harness.**

**_"_****_Stay on!" _****Jake grunted as he grabbed onto the cord with his free hand, using his ax as leverage to pull himself over the edge, his knees slamming into the rocks as he did. Ignoring the pain, he pushed himself over onto flat ground, grabbing his burden and tossing him over to his side. The scream had died to a willow, the wind slackened, the cold losing its bite and the snow returning to its original hold. **

**_"_****_Thanks partner! I—" _**

**The voice died in his throat. Jake turned and saw why. Held within Maq's eyes was the sudden change from thankfulness to surprise then to rage all in the span of a second. As Maq made the effort to lunge, Jake drew his knife and held it inbetween them.**

**_"_****_Don't," _****he growled, using his free hand to push himself off the ground, ****_"not unless you don't value your life."_**

**_ "_****_Like you valued my brothers!?"_**

**Silence then took its turn with the men. Maq rose slowly, his hand going for his own blade sheathed on his back. But before blows could be exchanged, the ****_thud_**** of boots broke the uneasy balance of tension. Above them, Shepherds and three others were repelling down to them.**

**_"_****_You guys alright?"_**

**_ "_****_Yeah," _****Jake replied, sheaving his blade quickly and took the outreaching hand, beginning his climb, ****_"just fine."_**

* * *

><p><strong>It was another four hours before they stopped again. They had found a enclosed hill above the path they were taking surrounded on all sides by a thicket of tall pine trees. They wouldn't be moving until the morning.<strong>

**_"_****_Tell me more about him," _****Jake inquired, his spoon swooping in for more of the steaming stew, ****_"Blood-gull."_**

**Shepherds and Doc Simmons were sitting across from him, gazing into the low burning crackle of the camp fire.**

**_"_****_Bandit King from out east, commands an assemblage of mebbe two score mountain men. Tough bastard, we tried to kill him a couple of years ago the last time he ambushed us."_**

**_ "_****_Tried?"_**

**At this, a cold grin crossed Shepherds lips:**

**_"_****_Three hundred yards away and yet the Gichii ni khüü is lucky by three inches down." _**

**He crossed his finger over the underside of the chin and down the lower part of the trachea:**

**_"_****_Bullet passed through. And yet somehow he survived."_**

**_ "_****_That how he got his name?"_**

**_ "_****_Oh yes,"_****Simmons chuckled, nearly spilling his metal soup cup, ****_"I will hand it to Dugan, guy's got a sense of humor. Survives a shot to the throat, decides to make a name out of it. I feel like he's trying to mock us."_**

**_ "_****_Yeah well the next time he can call himself 'Crows Eye', cause by the time I'm done with him that's what's gonna be feeding on him."_**

**_ "_****_Better get in line, Shepherds. Looks like you're gonna be having competition before the fights over."_**

**_ "_****_I doubt any will get closer than me, Simmons," _****he replied with a cocky grin, drawing a seven inch Zeyra blade and placing it on the log, ****_"care to try me?"_**

**_ "_****_You're on, son," _****Simmons chuckled with a grin hidden under stock white whiskers, drawing a Bowie Knife and slamming it into the log next to his opponents.**

**_"_****_And how does this usually end?" _****Jake chuckled as he dipped his spoon and pulling out a chunk of a potato. **

** "****_Usually, they lose to me." _**

**To the two of them; Amelia had practically stepped out of shadow, and her presence startled the oldest of them. But to Jake, he had heard her coming a good ten feet behind and only then when he had chosen to. She seated him next to him, dropping down like a Swallow-Bat descending on a Bare Rabbit. Minutes passed, the conversation dropping into a bliss as his mind wondered around the camp, his eyes peering into the faces of everyone about, his ears picking up the words shifted in the air.**

**Then something rose to the surface. He turned his gaze and he spotted him. He was hooded, but was wearing a familiar blue jacket that edged with furs. He'd noticed him before, always maintaining a posture on the edge of the group. It was almost like he was trying to remain unseen, but within vicinity of words being spoken. He excused himself, placing his cup on the log and began to follow the hooded figure. **

**He maneuvered within the crowd, using bodies to cover his visage as the hood kept walking from the camp.**

**_Where are you going? _****He wondered to himself. He ducked to the side, turning his body and head about when the hood looked behind him. He braced himself, but he knew he hadn't been compromised. He continued moving within the crowd, keeping his movements casual and slow and allowing his prey enough comfort distance. He knew the rule of thumb was to advance of the person's right side as the most natural to peer around was the left.**

** "****_Okay, where you taking me?"_**

**He got his answer as they stepped into the forest. He knew that it would tougher to follow him here as he wouldn't have the advantage of a crowd of bodies to hide him. He was going to have to let the guy go far. Maybe a good twenty yards. Unfortunately he didn't get the chance. **

**He felt a hand snatch at his face, trying to pull him in. He stepped back, drawing his arm in and pushing away the hand from his proximity. Then he grabbed the hand, pulled it in and then shoved its owner hard into a tree. When he recovered, he dreaded that he had to be right once more. He also knew that Maq couldn't have been alone.**

**_"_****_You're getting sloppy."_**

**_ "_****_And it seems you can't take a hint, Deadman."_**

**Jake drew himself into a ready stance, his gaze focused on Maq but his ears peered into the gloom around for some sign. And he knew they were there.**

**_"_****_I see I was right."_**

**_ "_****_About what?" _****Maq growled dangerously, drawing himself up and maneuvering to open ground.**

**_"_****_The rat never travels alone."_**

**With that; Dog, Wolf and Big bear stepped out from concealment, each looked dangerously intent for what was about to happen next. He circled, watching each and every movement they made.**

**_Smart, _****he thought to himself. They had drawn him in and know they had him surrounded.**

**_"_****_What do you want?"_**

**_ "_****_What do you think? I want justice for my brother."_**

**_ "_****_I didn't kill him—"_**

**_ "_****_But you let him die."_**

**_ "_****_You weren't there," _****Jake growled angrily, his eyes narrowing to a point they might bore into Maq's, ****_"The Easterner was going to kill him, no matter what I did and your brother knew that."_**

**_ "_****_That doesn't change what happened. Or what's about to happen here."_**

**_ "_****_I suppose so. What now?"_**

**_ "_****_Either you leave now, just walk right into that forest, or not."_**

**_ "_****_And if not?"_**

**_ "_****_I think you know the answer." _****Maq replied by drawing silver. In these words, Jake mind went into overdrive, evaluating his options and there weren't many. He knew he couldn't fight all four of them at the same time. He wasn't going to run either, not from this or from him. And it was in this that the words of his father rang true in his mind:**

**_You will always face odds greater than yourself, son. They'll stack like dominoes, trying overwhelm you. But within those odds, you'll find a weakness. And that weakness will always be disguised as a strength._**

**He went for the only option he had. In a blur of motion, he lunged. His blow struck true; slamming his fist against his opponents left eye. In a blood curdling scream, he pressed forward, bashing his opponent in a vicious uppercut. Then he grabbed his opponent's knife hand, pulling it forward and slamming it into his knee: forcing him to drop the blade. Then he followed up with an elbow to the face that sent his opponent into a tree.**

**Maq had been completely taken by surprise, his sense of understanding blurred with pain and stars. But the blow to the tree had reset his combat understanding and he saw Jake coming. He shot his arm forward, blocking another blow and retaliating with his own that disoriented his opponent. Then he grabbed him by his arm and collar and swung him up and around, delivering a blow across the face that sent Jake crashing through a tent and into the ground. Once the ground, Jake launched a kick into the advancing Maq's midsection, giving himself some breathing space. **

**Rising to his feet, Jake took a boxers stance: legs spread apart and hands held loose in front ready for anything. And anything came in an advance. Maq circled his enemy like a wolf waiting for the kill, Jake going clockwise. They shifted and ponder, there blows land almost no force at first, testing each other, probing for weaknesses. A feint followed by a counter, a shift of the stance, a response followed. Yet, all entirely oblivious to the growing crowd that had gathered; and the rising voice demanding the fight to come.**

**Maq was the first to make a move. He feinted with an underhanded blow and then kicked with a roundhouse. Jake saw this coming however, and moved into his center line. Countering the roundhouse, he struck upward with a hefty uppercut that sent Maq up and over, prime for a follow up that sent him crashing to the floor. Going to his knee, Maq caught a kick aimed for his face and then went for a full tackle that sent the two rolling through the mud. **

**It quickly turned into a mad grapple as the two tussled and tossed with full force of effort. At last, Maq gained the advantage and began raining blows upon Jake, who through his hands and arms around his head; blocking, rolling and assailing with the fists. Then he blocked an incoming blow, grabbed hold then pulled in and countering with an elbow. Jake then tussled Maq over and once more the roll continued. At least, until the air was filled with the thunderous report of an Uzi, bring their attention mid combat, to its very angry wielder.**

**_"_****_You stupid son of a bitch!" _**

**Jake had never truly ever seen Amelia angry, and now that he had seen the wrath within her; he truly feared it. With eyes that burned with ire and a strength fuelled by rage, she grabbed the rising Maq and slammed him into a tree.**

**_"_****_You just don't know when to stop, do you!?" _****she screamed, the barrel of her machine weapon trailing dangerously close to the underside of his chin, ****_"Even when that man saves your worthless life, you just can't let go! He did not kill Raq! Do you understand me!?"_**

**_ "_****_Amy, I—"_**

**_ "_****_Don't!" _****she retorted with a fury rising in her voice, ****_"Don't you fucking dare try to talk your way out of this, you stupid terslüü_****_mogoin!_****_ "_**

**Jake understanding of the native tongue was limited at best. It wasn't used fairly often, instead being surpassed by common speech. But he had heard those words before, years prior when his father had broken a friendship with a neighbor in the valley. He didn't remember much of what was said; but ****_terslüü_****_mogoin _****stood out because immediately afterwards steel was drawn and blood was spilled. And a life was claimed.**

**To Maq, he perfectly understood the meaning. Pinned against the wall, any fight left in him was drained as was the strength of his arms. Memories flashed of his youth, his time with his older brother against the world. Then it came to his time spent with the traders, and his desire for the raven haired girl who had now ripped his heart in a million pieces. He had never truly fulfilled his wish, never truly gone for what he had wanted, but had found something of a friendship with Amy. But now, with one act of attempted vengeance and the usage of two simple words: one meaning traitor and the other snake; that friendship had burned into cinder within the inferno building within the cool blue eyes staring deep into his soul.**

**In Amy's mind, she felt the anger boiling within her; like a volcano fissuring to explode. But below that, she felt confusion and guilt. Confusion as she was driven and pulled by the friendships built with these two men and the want of loyalty to either. And guilt because now she had to choose. Below the fury in her eyes, she felt a multitude of sorrow and remorse because of the words she had spoken which now burned the friendship she had built Maq and his brother; with the fact that because she chose Jake: she felt had disgraced the memory of Raq. And, like so many others of her sex, she had chosen to hide that guilt until it had to be brought to the surface.**

**When Jake touched grasped her shoulder and whispered softly to let him go, tears filled her eyes. All the guilt that had built that she did not know what to do with had devoured her rage in a matter of seconds. She released him, her hands clutching her prized SMG felt cold and limp. Maq head slumped to his chest, his eyes closed as tears rolled down his cheeks like silent rivers. Jake approached softly, his hand grasping the younger man's shoulder, for in his soul he did not want to fight anymore especially not this young man over some very stupid reason.**

**Yet, whatever hope there was that this anger would wither and die was dashed away when Maq opened his eyes and Jake was the first thing to be seen. Like a virus clinging tenaciously to the objective to consume and mutate, the rage returned and filled him with renewed strength. He lashed out, trying to destroy this man; who in his mind had now taken away his brother and had now robbed him of Amelia. Strong hands took hold of the two men and with brutal force pulled the two away, holding them in a deadlock.**

**_"_****_Khutga!"_**

**With one word, the entire world around came under a spell that put it in a tenseful silence. No one, not the newly arriving Edwin or Simmons, spoke out of utter shock. In fact, the only ones that had not been hypnotized by the words power was its speaker and its receiver, who just stared out at everyone else's sudden fear of this alien word.**

**_"_****_Khutga! I declare Khutga!" _****Maq screamed at the entire world before him, ****_"Khutga!"_**

**_ "_****_Khutga…" _****Edwin repeated painfully and slowly, then gazing both at his daughter and the man he soon feared was going to perish, ****_"Khutga is… received."_**

* * *

><p><strong>To say that the camp was afraid would have been an understatement. To say Amy was absolutely terrified would've been more accurate, but still fell utterly short of its true extent. <strong>**_Deathstricken: _****that was the word that came to Jakes mind. And it certainly defined her emotions, her actions and her tone:**

**_"_****_In here." _**

**She practically threw him into an empty tent, and when Jake looked into her eyes her pupils were fully dilated. Her hands too, were trembling. All of these were things he had only saw in men returning from the stretch of battle.**

**_"_****_Amy? Amy are you alright?" _****he attempted to comfort her, but to no avail, ****_"God, you look like you've seen death."_**

**_ "_****_No," _****she replied in a whisper, ****_"but I'm about to." _**

**_ "_****_What do you mean? Why are you and the rest of this camp so shaken?"_**

**_ "_****_You don't know?" _**

**She looked up at him, peering it seemed not at him but further through him at something. Whatever it was, Jake had no way of knowing. She continued staring, as though she was in a trance. Then she spoke, her voice grave as though someone had stepped on her grave:**

**_"_****_Khutga, in the native tongue, means _****blood blade,****_" _****now Jake felt the hairs at his nape starting to rise, his body felt utterly cold and his mind began to fold into despair, ****_"it's an ancient tradition, started by some obscure tribe but it spread far and fast. It is followed by most of the I'rkha and Der'va we've recruited."_**

**_ "_****_What tradition, Amy?"_**

**_ "_****_A fight to the death."_**

**His ears almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Part of his mind wanted to deny it, almost attempting to plead with the world. But the other part of his brain; a darker, older, grimmer part: told him that there was no point.**

**_"_****_You mean… I'm going to have to kill him?"_**

**She nodded slowly, her hands clutching at her face as tears rolled down streaming pools that gather and rolled down in ice like fingers.**

**_"_****_And there is no way out of this? You're father can't call it off?"_**

**_ "_****_No," _****she replied slowly, her eyes drifting to the floor, ****_"once declared; it has to be followed through."_**

**_ "_****_Amy, I—I don't, no I can't kill him. Not over misplaced grief."_**

**_ "_****_Then he will kill you, Jake," _****she replied, almost apologetically, ****_"that is the reason that Khutga is so feared. For in all the few cases it's been declared, only—only one has ever come out alive." _**

**_ "_****_Amy, I—there must be some way."_**

**At this, Amy just shook her head, and continued to do so as though she was going into shock. At that moment, the tall and dark frame of Shepherds stepped into the gloomy atmosphere, followed by the older form of Basil Simmons.**

**_"_****_Kid we've got to talk."_**

**As usual, Simmons was brief and to the point. While he spoke, the tall black man shepherded the silent Amy out of the room. He returned a minute later.**

**_"_****_You know what's going on?" _****Shepherds questioned. He nodded.**

**_"_****_Kid, you know that I'm the camp's sawbones. As such, I've made it my business to know every aspect of a person's state; including his physical weaknesses."_**

**At this, Jake was taken completely aback.**

**_"_****_You're going to teach me how to kill him? Aren't you?"_**

**_ "_****_Something like that, Jake." _**

**_ "_****_No. No, you won't—"_**

**_ "_****_Kid," _****Simmons interrupted, ****_"I know that Maq is grieved, but he's crossed the line."_**

**_ "_****_What line?"_**

**_ "_****_The line of calling Khutga," _****Shepherds continued, placing a firm hand on Jakes shoulder, half to comfort him and half to keep him in place, ****_"YOU were not responsible for killing his brother. YOU are not the one to blame for this whole goddamn mess. While a man grieving is a natural need, trying to get another man, an innocent man at that, killed, is unforgivable."_**

**_ "_****_You're the right party, this whole damn camp knows that, but knowing the right ain't the thing that's going to keep you alive."_**

**_ "_****_Fighting him I will do, but killing him? There's got to be a way around that."_**

**_ "_****_There isn't."_**

* * *

><p><strong>The roar of the crowd was muted by the thickened tent flap, but only just barely. His heart was steady, as was his breathing, but it was elevated. He'd been forced to take off his shirt, wearing only his heavy duty work pants and boots, but he felt neither the cold nor the warmth inside the hearth. His fingers tightened and slackened around the leather handle, relaxing and closing, his image reflected from the seven inch blade. His mind reflected over and over the words, the lessons, drilled into him over the past hour.<strong>

**_"_****_He always favors his right side—he may be shorter than you, but do not underestimate him—thrust, attack! Good, now when he blocks here—Now strike! Too slow, again—I trained him, and most others with the blade—now remember that his blindside is the key. Gain control of that and you've got him."_**

**He had been silent throughout the whole endeavor. Instead, he let his mind drift and lock into its more primal state, his muscle memory taking hold as he remembered the hour. But now here he was, and now he had allowed his thoughts to return. He thought of his father, where he could be and wondering what he was doing. He thought of his home; a lofty little homestead they had built in the maw of a valley backed by mountains. Aw yes, life had been good there. **

**He closed his eyes, allowing the sweet memories to flow through, perhaps for the last time. Then his memories drifted to the lessons his father had given him, the stories from his bible. He remembered Jacob, he remembered Joseph, Saul, Solomon, Judea and the apostles. But the one he remembered the most; important in its designs, was David. A boy felled a giant, all with naught but faith and a sling. At this, he dropped to his knees, his hands bringing together in a clenched postured of faith.**

**He prayed, for strength but also for guidance. To lead him from the evil he would have to inhabit if he was to survive. But then, with eyes straining to the ceiling, he prayed mercy for his enemy. He practically begged that he find a way that both might live, but he knew that was likely not going to be the case. Then he heard the voice outside and he knew that the time had come. **

**_"_****_In thine holiest name, Amen."_**

**As he performed the signature sign of the trinity, Amy stepped into the room.**

**_"_****_It's time."_**

**And with a single set of steps, his whole world changed around him. It was snowing hard again, illuminated like dragon flies with ablaze of torches lined in a great circle twenty paces wide with an assemblage of screaming crowds on either side. He look left and he look right and saw nothing to alter his coming course. The fight had come, the culmination of so many choices, now come to a collision point. He stepped into the circle, and there across from him was his enemy, staring hard into him as he did the same.**

**Two men then entered the arena, both carrying clay bowls full of some liquid. When one of the men approached Jake, he recognized it as red paint. As the man began to apply the pattern onto his bare skin, he remembered the tales his father had told him of ancient tribes that had survived the end of world some fifty years prior. There, they kept some of the ways their more modern members still alive had once had for a normal life, while many others sought to embrace their more ancient, traditional methods. As the war paint slipped under his eyes, he felt a calm he had never truly felt before, red marks trailing in a great ark that moved seamlessly with a life of their own down the nose and over the lips.**

**Across from him, Maq was applied a similar pattern except with sky blue mixture with the marks above his eyebrows that connected at the tip of his nose. Then the men departed, and the crowd grew silent. Edwin stepped up to the podium at the edge of the circle and raised his hands in the air:**

**_"_****_As war chief, I declare the trial by combat, the settelage of disputes and the fight of the death. May Heaven above choose who is right, and may he be granted its fortune."_**

**He then spoke a series of words that Jake did not understand. At its conclusion, Maq raised his blade hand in an outstretched salute and brought his fist against his chest. Jake did the same. His eyes began to wander around the crowd, and there he found Amelia, eyes closed with a grave expression still locked within her beautiful face. Then he noticed her hands. **

**She was praying.**

**_"_****_May the contest begin!" _**

**With this, the two locked eyes and readied their knifes, approaching with the infinite caution of a knifefighter. They circled like Jackals, watching each other's movements. A shift of the leg was followed by a counter shift. Postures changed, blade held low then high. An advance: a withdrawal.**

**Both fighters knew with the knowledge that one well aimed blow would end the fight. Only one.**

**_"_****_I'm going to kill you, Deadman," _****Maq sneered, ****_"I'm going to bury this blade in your chest."_**

**_ "_****_Come and try." _****Jake replied calmly, keeping his rising emotions in check. He knew that to give into rage would only leave him in a stupid state of an animal, one without the thought to protect himself from a deathblow. **

**_ "_****_Die!" _****Maq screamed as he lunged, stabbing forward to try and connect with his opponents face. Jake leapt back, slashing at air to keep Maq at bay. They circled again, this time Jake made the first move. He lunged and stabbed, then following up with a downward slash. Maq ducked and weaved, retaliating with an arc of silver that missed his enemies groin by inches as he jumped back. **

**Seizing the initiative, he struck with all his force for a land on the neck. Seeing this coming, Jake threw his left hand up and blocked the incoming blow, attempting a strike at his opponent's thigh. Instead he found his hand blocked and then gripped in a vise. It soon became a battle of strength, like two wrestlers gripping the other to tussle and defeat the other through leverage as they held their hold on each other's blade hands, swinging high and through to dislodge the other. Maq broke it first, landing a hard knee in Jake's stomach causing him to stagger and nearly drop.**

**He held on however, gritting his teeth as he fought the rising pain rising to his chest. With a roar like a bears death throttle, he pushed and slammed his shoulder and head into his opponent's chest with such strength and speed that he drove his opponent back several paces. Fighting for breath, he dropped the hand blocking Jake's knife and used to deliver an elbow into his spine. He dropped his knees, but with a last bit of strength he threw his fist upward that contacted Maq's chin and sent him stumbling to the floor on his back.**

**Exhausted and injured, the two warriors fought for breath as they labored not two yards from the other.**

**_"_****_You ain't—gonna- make this easy, ain't you?" _****Maq asked, breath slow to return as he made an effort to rise, wiping away a trail of blood that trailed from a broken lip.**

**_"_****_I—don't wanna kill you, Maq," _****Jake panted, almost pleading with his enemy, ****_"not over this."_**

**_ "_****_Not over my brother!?"_**

**That pushed him over the edge. Before Jake could blink, Maq practically barreled into him, sending them in tumble through the snow. Finally, they came apart, both fighters landing on their backs as they did. In a heartbeat, they rushed each other again with blades drawn. Every blow, every landfall and every glint of silver made the crowd, and ultimately Amy, cringed. **

**She fought for control over her despair, but found it raging like a runaway bull charging at a flag waiving Torero. A minute passed, and the two men felt more drained then they ever had before. They stood eight paces from each other, shoulders slumped with the effort as blood ran from the wounds they had inflicted upon each other. Moving slowly in a clockwise motion, Jake attempted one more time to break reason with his opponent:**

**_"_****_End this. You know how this will end if you don't."_**

**_ "_****_You fight well,"_****Maq replied, panting like a dog on three mile run, his eyes never leaving his opponents, ****_"in any other situation, I might have seen you as a comrade. But for my brothers memory, you have to fall."_**

**_ "_****_To the death?"_**

**_ "_****_To the death."_**

**_ "_****_Come and get me then."_**

**At this, Maq came charging full on with his blade weld high for a powerful strike. The crowd held its breath as though in complete slow motion the two combatants came for a final showdown. Jake took a knee, his hand buried within the snow, a look of defeat slowly beginning to grow on his tired face. Then with a sudden burst of energy, he lurched forward and practically slammed a hunk of snow into his charging opponent; blinding him and ending his attack as he slashed at mid air! This made it easy for Jake to simply loop around Maq's clumsy defense, coming up on his left side for what many knew was the killing blow.**

**Then just as he closed the distance, he threw his blade away, burying itself into the snow.**

**_"_****_What are you doing?!" _****Amy screamed, but he did not hear her. In Jakes battle powered mind, a single streak of memory played over and over in a sequence:**

**_"_****_When he was younger, Maq suffered a pretty traumatic blow to the side of the head, just below the left eye. He has confessed to me that he has no peripheral vision on that side."_**

**Maq threw the blade to his left hand, and at last wiped away the last of the snow from his eyes. But by then it was too late. He felt a fist slam into his cheek and sent him down staggering. When he tried to look to his left side, he could only see gray there and he attempted to circle around to at least see his opponent. Jake did not offer him the opportunity.**

**He kept hammering blow after blow down into his opponent's face, neck and back, using his left hand to pin his opponent's blade hand by pulling it far to the side. He then followed up with a knee aimed right at the side of his enemy's thigh, knowing all too well how susceptible the nerves there were to pain. It had the desirable effect; Maq screamed in pain as he dropped to one knee, his blade hand held taught as he went down. Jake then promptly proceeded to kick Maq square in the back sending him totaling into snow. Seizing total control of his arm, he placed his boot firmly against the back of Maq's throat and started to pull:**

**_"_****_Drop it! Drop it damn it!"_**

**Even through the pain, Maq still tried to resist, still attempted to fight: even when the die had rolled fatally against him. He wouldn't be the man his brother had raised him to be if he didn't. **

**_"_****_Nuh—No!"_**

**It pained him with what he was about to do, but Jake knew Maq would never surrender. He moved his foot away for a breath seconds, then brought it crashing down upon the pinned shoulder. The sudden ****_snap _****that followed, with the addition of a blood curdling scream, confirmed that the arm had been totally dislocated. Losing total control over his broken arm, the knife dropped to the floor with a dull ****_thud._**

**Turning the broken man over, Jake proceeded to batter his opponent with slow, deliberate punches that left Maq's face purple, bloodied and swollen. He then retrieved the fallen blade, and the crowd knew around him that the fight was over.**

**Shouts of ****_'Finish him!' _****and ****_'He's lost. He has to die!' _****ranged in the area, making Jake's mind start to buzz and spin. He focused his thoughts, the blade a hairs breath above Maq's throat. Through swollen lips and broken teeth, Jake could hear only a soft whisper:**

**_"_****_You know what you have to do. I lost. You won. Finish it."_**

**As these words were being spoken, the world around seemed to blur and any functions the world around him once had paused in utter anticipation. He looked around him, around at the falling snow burned a deep orange; at the masses gathered at this inhuman spectacle. And in his mind he knew that none of it mattered. That by the end of the time spent, the soul was the first to be wasted, for very human reasons. Does any of really matter?**

**_ "_****_Sure it does, Jake."_**

**In his point of his own personal despair, he knew his mind had turned to its anchor. Its source point. It's true influence by the end of it all. His father. The words of wisdom that he had spent so long trying to honor had returned to remind him what was right, and undoubtedly, the hardest of choices:**

**_ "_****_Good men are not defined by what our accursed race decides is justifiable. Good men are defined by their choices, and what comes of those choices. And when the world screams at you what to do, the final say is always you. When the tide runs and it runs in filth, you swim against it. The tide may break your body, but it will never break your soul, not unless you let it."_**

**And at the last words said, the world around him returned. For the longest time, he stared deep into the eyes swollen by wounds staring back at him. Then his eyes wandered to the blade in his hand and it felt alien to him. With knowing, the blade twirled slowly around in his hand, as though it was trying to remember what to do with it. Maq meanwhile was both in utter fear and utter confusion. Why wasn't he dead yet?**

**_"_****_Did you—not—hear me? Finish it!"_**

**_ "_****_No. I won, you live."_**

**And with that he sheathed the knife and rose, standing before the world around him. The crowd was deadly silent, but their eyes bore into him almost with accusations written into them. Then he roared with a voice raised to the intensity of a whirlwind rending its way into the souls of every human being at this assembly:**

**_"_****_Did you hear me!? I won! He lives! I will not kill him, not in cold blood!" _**

**The crowd was stunned, petrified and frozen by the absolute power of the bellow. And Jake wasn't done yet. His voice had lowered in volume but its intensity remained even stronger:**

**_"_****_And if you want to kill him, you'll have to go through me."_**

**He then turned and hoisted the broken figure of Maq onto his shoulders and began to make his way out of the arena.**

**_"_****_Doc, you have a patient." _**

* * *

><p><strong>Haunting eyes watched the display below. It had been nestled in the dark hills for hours; its crimson eyes the only indication of its presence, even to an aware hunter. Its ears caught the constant, unnatural clash of steel and the cries of the tall ones below. Its nose caught their scents muddled with blood. Its mind raveling the mystery of the tall ones battle, the auras of anger, pain and fear radiating off of the tall ones as they cried and as they bled. <strong>

**A shift in the wind disturbed nocturnal air and it spun about in the brush, the returning moonlight reflecting off of its white fangs. A low growl started to gather in the bowls of its throat as the traitor came to view. Its animal instincts commanded it to hunt and destroy the traitor to the tall ones, but then it smelled another approaching. It could not hear him, he was silenter than a dead wind, but the smell was terrifyingly familiar. It knew patience was the best virtue to be had, so it crept into the shadows and began to stalk its prey.**

**It moved cautiously, taking every step with carry as it moved through the woods. Days prior, it had caught whiff of a tall one dressed in blue, and had seen his treachery when he had met with the dark one. This was a Tall One, but it had black fur and hunted like a monster only appearing in the bright moon. Then its thoughts were interrupted by the long howl of the wolf brethren beginning their prayers to the high moon. At this, its fangs showed as its ruby eyes tracked the sound through the forest. **

**It had fought them over hunted prey over the weeks, and it grew to hate them. They were cruel, hunting prey without any true thought, and killing even the starved who had attempted to scavenge from their kills. They too had casted him out, calling him ****_the black thief. _****He didn't mind though, to him it was a sign of fear, for he had slain some of their champions in combat. The wind increased in pressure; returning his scent to its thoughts.**

**It leapt over a fallen log and dove under another, creeping through the snow and bush, its senses kept constantly alert as it darted from cover to cover. Then the Tall Blue One turned his head and stared right at creature. It froze, not even daring to breathe lest it betray itself. Then the blue one turned back to the path and continued along on its way. It was relieved; it had felt the impact of their boom-boom's before countless moons before in the upper part of its thigh and dreaded having to feel that pain again.**

**It was also relieved that this Tall One was not a hunter. Many Tall Hunters before had mistaken it as a feral wolf brother; and had attempted to hunt it down. They were only a step below itself in terms of fighting prowess; the only advantage it had over them was its senses and its speed. Then it stopped in its tracks and went low to the ground. The Dark One had arrived.**

**_"_****_Dmitri! Good to see you still alive, sobrat!"_**

**_ "_****_Zuby Ada, Azazel! My name until I can leave this samosval is Griffon!"_**

**_ "_****_Alas, I apologize. What word from the camp?"_**

**_ "_****_They're proceeding as normal, Azazel. But they know there is a traitor amongst them, and the Marshall son very nearly compromised me."_**

**The creature stirred at the mention of the name ****_Marshall_****. So its senses hadn't been deceiving him. ****_Masters _****pup was near. **

**_"_****_I shouldn't be surprised, Dmi—ah, Griffon. The boy is much like his father and possesses his gifts."_**

**_ "_****_What word from Komandir? Does he still want the boy alive?"_**

**_ "_****_The boy is important to Nemetskiy, so it's important to Khan. But I'm beginning to have my doubts about him." _**

**_ "_****_And I can confirm those doubts, Azazel. The boy doesn't know where the father is."_**

**_ "_****_Are you sure?"_**

**_ "_****_The word is that he is looking for him. But if he did know, Azazel, then he would've left days ago."_**

**_ "_****_Then it's settled. The boy has proven too much trouble to acquire and he bears no frukty. If you have the opportunity, kill him."_**

**It was instinctual. At the mere mention of hunting the Masters Pup like prey, the creature growled. The Dark One turned and produced from its furs an object that glimmered like moonlight. It dashed from its hiding place and leapt over the two men, Azazel firing off subsonic rounds that very narrowly missed the blurred hunk of fur by inches.**

**_"_****_What was that?" _****Griffon questioned as he recovered. Azazel shook his head:**

**_"_****_Just a stupid dog."_**


	5. Chapter 4: Nov 31st, 2099

Chapter Four

November 31st, 2099, the Umiak Scales

South East of Mt. Foraker

* * *

><p><em>Entry#37<em>

_I found this old thing at the bottom of my pack. My last entry was about two weeks back, in that lumber town far to the north. But after everything I've been through, I guess I shouldn't be surprised._

_Last night could've been a hell of a lot worse and… it should've. This place… this wilderness is starting to get to me. Not like home. _

_I got lucky last night. I need to say it again. I GOT LUCKY. I need to keep it clear to myself, I am not alive through my own will or even skill; I'm alive because I keep getting the right draw. I cannot build my life off of luck. __'Cause at any point that's gonna change. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. But it'll change, and I'll be gone._

_No… can't think like that. Can't ever think like that. I've gotta find Dad. If that's gotta be my reason to live, then so be it. I am not ready to die._

_BUT I DO NOT FEAR THE REAPER._

_Entry #38_

_Maq woke up. Took a while, maybe sometime around midday. Simmons popped his arm back into place minutes after the fight and it knock him straight out. I know the feeling. _

_He… called me over asked me why. Why did I save him, even after he said so many horrible things and tried to kill me thrice?_

_Wanna know the truth? 'Cause of Dad._

_Of all the things he taught me over the years, THE most important thing was the matter of what it is to be a man. Not any of this der'vasha bullshit of killing your first bear or laying your first woman or some shit like that. He taught me that it's the choice that you make in the worst of times, when your life is on the line that decides if you're a man or a monster. But that's not the only reason._

_I did kill his brother. I tried to tell myself that I didn't, that there was no way around it. But I know the truth: I fucked up. But because of that, because his brother gave his life to save mine, I will not kill him._

_He then told me that he had been so filled with rage that he would've blamed anybody for it. Anybody happened to me. Then he told me of his brother, how he used to look out for him. Used to get him out of trouble when it either came for him or when he bumbled into it. Even when he fucked up bad, his brother never looked at him wrong, and he wanted to do everything that he had to, to make his brother proud._

_He loves Amy. That much I could tell when he talked about her. Never said it directly but I could tell. He felt that he had disappointed his brother, and that he destroyed anything that he had with her. And while he was talking, he started to weep. And through a voice cracked, he told me he had never felt more alone._

_I know the feeling._

_Entry #39_

_Amy heard every word. I could hear her crying, even softly, outside the tent. I left them alone together. They needed it more than anything else… _

_We've arrived at the new campsite. The camp is completely on edge and I don't blame them. The mole is still out there. Even with Simmons, Shepherds and Amy; I can't possibly hope to catch this guy on my own. Last time he got careless._

_Now he'll be more cautious than ever. So I've made the only choice I could._

_When I told Maq, he was all too eager. The mole works for the man who murdered his brother. Now the only tricky part is going to be getting him alive._

_Entry #40_

_An elk pack, about 50 in number, has been spotted to the west._

_Amy and I are joining the hunt._

* * *

><p><strong>1300 hoursSummit of Dead Man's Bluff**

** The air was full of excitement and anticipation. Feet and bodies threw up great clutters of snow that coated the wind with utter white. Jake couldn't even feel the stinging bite of the cold on his face as he hurried from about just behind Amelia. He knew the thrill of the hunt, and he knew the satisfaction of its success. But the same experience was overshadowed by the utter glee of the traders.**

** The first reason for it was a change in pace. Hunting brought the exhilaration of the chase to the day in, day out march across the winter wasteland. The second was the prospect of the elk meat. The cooks did everything they could with what they had, but every meal was of preserved and dried food stuffs. Hard and dull taste, even when made into a soup.**

** Hunted elk promised fresh meat.**

_**"C'mon, we need to get out there fast 'fore the rest get the meat!' **_

**Jake was having trouble readjusting the strap for his new weapon slung across his shoulder while dealing with the lopped skies. Ever sense they arrived at the camp and got it running, he spent many an hour getting his hands on newer gear to replace his older equipment. New thermals and new boots, new goggles to replace the ones he had chipped in a fall. He kept his leather coat and a few other things as well, but the most imperative was the rifle. While he would gladly be buried with his beloved Scholfield, he realized far too late that he needed a long gun, especially with the prospect of having an army of well-armed bandits on your tail.**

** The selection had been varied. He had his eye on a Robinson XCR-SBR: with its almost submachine gun appearance, a folding stock and a body coat of a pre-war winter camouflage, but he took the advice of the quartermaster and settled on a Ruger Compact Magnum, cambered to the slightly unusual .338 caliber. But he had worked with stalker rifles before, and he knew how powerful they were up to even a half mile. Power and range over firepower.**

** A hard choice.**

* * *

><p><strong>The hunting party was assembled, and the skill of which they were commanded was astounding. During the march, it had rather been a bumbling trail of tired men and burden. But know the hunt had exhilarated them. Over the massive snow drift, the fifteen man party advanced with rapid speed made by their skies in a fixed formation with track dogs at the head. When they reached the forest, they split up into four separate groups and thundered through the five yard wide trail through the pines. <strong>

** Jake stayed with the lead party, with a white haired tracker named Stone leading the way. He was flanked by three gray furred hunting dogs that he had learned were his. Jake remembered seeing this man before manning one of the snow sleighs. Now here he was, moving with such ease that it made the young members of the hunting party look amateurish. They split off over a snow cliff that forked the trail, and Jake couldn't resist going over the top. He pressed maximum speed into his thrust, dropping low and hitting the hill.**

** He then leapt through the air, bringing his feet together as he twirled in free fall. Landing was far trickier. He remembered what Amy had taught him about landing: he straightened and moved his feet shoulder-width apart. The impact was still jarring that sent shock waves up to his jaw. While he was able to make a level landing, he very nearly lost control and stumbled.**

** He regained he posture and continued sliding down the hill and joined the party. The first and only word out of the white mane tracker was:**

_**"Greenhorn."**_

**At the edge of the route, the party regrouped and dismounted, sliding their skis and poles onto Walki holders. These were not pre-war relics, rather made out of wolf fur and jointed with toughened leather. Being inexperienced, Jake need an extra set of hands to get his into place. All much to the silent laughter of some of the more cynical traders. Jake didn't mind though, knowing that a mind that couldn't take criticism where it was deserved was one that hadn't long to live. **

** But like any kind of experienced shooter, drew his Ruger in a fluid motion from over his shoulder. His eyes were already scanning the area about for any signs of the herd and he found plenty. Beside the massive hoof prints making a road of there on, he could see trampled vegetation going into the forest, and the general disturbances in the area alone. That and the fact that there was very distinctive smell left over. Even if you were to shave him and give him the meanest scrubbing of a lifetime, he'd stink all the same.**

** Either way, the half dozen hunting dogs were going absolutely nuts.**

_**"We split up, and move ahead. Cover ground and isolate them. Split 'em up and pick 'em off. Understood?"**_

**With assenting heads, they moved out.**

* * *

><p><strong>Amelia and Jake had been travelling on the eastern fringes of the plateau when they came across their first sighting. Through the heavy thicket of trees, they spotted a couple of females ahead in the trail milling about near a recently smashed pine, nipping off of the arms. Instead of going in immediately for the shot, they waited patiently. Observed what they were doing, and noted the level of aggressiveness or subtlety they possessed. More importantly, they made sure the two were actually alone.<strong>

** Amy could still feel the scar on her right arm when they had made the mistake of not making sure there wasn't a bull around. She had been fifteen at the time, and when she shot down the female, the male came running. When a bull starts seeing red, there isn't much you can do to stop it. It charged, and opened up the length of her forearm and attempted to trample her. She had barely managed to escape with her life, and she very nearly died of blood loss.**

** She didn't know what had come of the bull. She had heard rumors that Uncle Donny had hunted the beast for three nights straight and had butchered the thing with a hatchet. All she knew was when she woke from the blood induced coma, the smell of burnt Elk steak filled her senses, and perhaps the most dangerous man alive smiling at her. He was the only other family she had besides her father, granted Donny wasn't familial. Either way, she missed him greatly.**

** She signaled to Jake, sending him to loop around to the left while she swung right. He nodded, cocking the Ruger's bolt silently to chamber the round. She did the same with her Ruger No.1 Sporter, chambered to fire a single .45-70 cal. She chose the weapon because of its extreme killing power, but she knew she was going to have to make the shot count. Slowly and carefully, the two swung on the flanks to get into better positions to take out the deer.**

** About twenty yards from each other; they signaled to fire on a count of five. Jake readied his Magnum, gearing for a round behind the shoulder plate. Amy aimed hers at the smaller of the two, her sights trailing to just above the animal's collarbone. At last Jake started the count. But when they both mouthed **_**'three one thousand',**_** Jake's target moved. **

** She bobbed behind a thick pine with its single trunk covering the cow's midsection. He cursed angrily to himself. Amy saw it too, and held off on her shot. Her target remained stock still, munching on the branch. She looked over to Jake, and asked what he wanted to do. Jake watched his target moving through the tree's at a lazy pace then stop at a shrub.**

** He pointed over to where the cow had moved to, signaling he was going to move up and wait for Amy to make her shot. She nodded and Jake silently crept through the woods. He moved like a ninja, taking every step with care and avoiding putting too much weight into his steps. He was about halfway to his target when sounded the crack of a rifle in the distance. The cow moved in apprehension and Jake froze, not daring even to breathe.**

** The cow stared out to the direction of the report, and then continued munching. Jake sighed, and continued moving. He eventually stopped at a low hanging white spruce, and settled his rifle onto one of the branches. Amy waited a full two minutes before deciding to go into action. The elk was finishing her meal and she would move again if she didn't take her shot. **

** She went to one knee, and placed her elbow on her calf. She then took aim at the cow, her iron sights orbiting behind the front leg. She closed her eye once, and then took a deep flowing breath. The cow heard only this, turning its head to Amy's direction. Then she fired.**

** Jake heard the distinctive crack of the .45-70 hitting its mark, and so did the cow. He fired, the cow in the middle of motion that threw his aim off a good couple of inches. It did not save it from the .338, however. The bullet slammed into the animal like a fist bursting through plaster, the hunk of metal ripping through muscle and bone and exploded out through the back. Yet despite the enormous damage inflicted upon it, the creature's animalistic panic flooded its mind with adrenaline that took it into a run.**

** Jake took chase, mounting a rock and took another shot that imbedded itself in the cow's upper thigh. He knew she wasn't going anywhere for long. He headed back to Amy's position. **

* * *

><p><strong>The rest of the hunting party arrived at their position about ten minutes later, three of the men bearing an older bull with a pole they tied about its stomach. This one Jake noted hadn't been brought down just by a bullet however. He could see the clear visible damage around its legs and thigh. Plus the bloodied snouts of the hunting dogs. <strong>

_**"We heard three shots," **_**Stone spoke, **_**"all on her?"**_

_** "There were two," **_**Amy spoke for the two of them, **_**"I took this one down, Jake hit another one."**_

_** "I saw it run off to the north. I hit it twice."**_

_** "Alright go getting 'em. We'll skin these two here."**_

**And with that, the two took off at a run.**

_**"Well that was fun!" **_**Amy commented with a smile.**

_**"You have no idea. I've missed doing this!"**_

**They carried off down the hill and through the trees, moving in a single file line over to where he'd first taken his shot. It then proved easy enough to follow the blood. Jake had half expected the cow to have run its course within three hundred yards at the most, but then found the trail going even further. **

_**"Damn," **_**he commented, **_**"she ran far. We're at least over a half mile."**_

_** "She should've been in the Olympics." **_**Amy replied jokingly. **

_**"What's an Olympics?"**_

_** "Some pre-war sports contest. Dad always said that it encompassed the globe."**_

_** "How the hell would that work?" **_**Jake asked bemused.**

_**"I have no idea. Still a cool idea though."**_

_** "Heh, maybe we should set up one of our own. Granted you would lose—ow!"**_

**She smirked as he rubbed his shoulder again.**

_**"Ye'now, I think I'm getting used to that."**_

_** "Really?" **_**her grin spreading even further along her heart shaped face, **_**"care to have some more?"**_

_** "No."**_

_** "I find your lack of confidence disturbing!"**_

_** "I find your monster hands disturbing, woman!"**_

_** "Oh, now you're asking for it!"**_

**They took off into a playful chase, up until they reached the edge of the tree line. Then they saw it. Out in the middle of a field only sullied by the crimson trail that led to a mound of brown that not twenty minutes ago had been a breathing animal. They shouldered their respective rifles and began marching out to the dead animal. Then something happened, maybe a change in the wind or the delicate atmosphere in the land's nature. **

** Jake did not know, but he could feel the short hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rise. **

_**"What is it?" **_**Amy inquired, seeing the concern on his face.**

_**"Dunno, but something doesn't feel right."**_

** He stopped in his tracks and peered about him at the tree line. He then realized that they had absolutely no cover, or concealment, for a good twenty yards all around and that the forest offered the exact opposite. He turned to tell Amy that they should head back to the tree line, but she wasn't behind him. She was in front of him, with her No.1 raised to her shoulder as she moved and scanned the area around her. Jake moved to catch up with her, but when they came within a dozen feet of the deer, he saw something was absolutely wrong.**

** Then he realized what it was. The cow had been dragged through the snow around… a section of ground five feet across.**

_**"Amy, don't!" **_**He screamed, but it was too late. The moment she placed weight upon the ground, it collapsed underneath her. Time slowed so slow that she could actually see the punji-like sticks, six feet high, at the bottom of a hole fifteen feet down. Jake on the other hand was in midair, his body flat as he reached to catch her before she went over. He did so, his hand snatching her hand and flinging her to the wall. **

_**"Oh god, oh god, oh god!" **_**She gasped at the sight of the enormous spikes barely touching the heel of her boot. Jake grunted and cursed as he shifted weights and threw his other hand into the works.**

_**"Hold on I—" **_

**Then he heard it. The death sign of all prey: the long howl of a wolf. **

_**"No!" **_**Amy uttered in complete terror. Jake looked over his shoulder and he saw them. There were six of them, and he knew these were the worst kind. In the wasteland, most don't separate wolves by their color, or traditional species. They were classified by their size and aggressiveness. **

** In the wastes, there were usual three kinds of wolf. The most common and least dangerous were the Der'vu or Road Wolf, who were maybe the size of a coyote. Hund'vu or a Hound Wolf, were the size of large dog, and were the closet to their unmutated ancestors. While both were able hunters, they steadfastly avoided humans, and only ever come close to any human Shelters during the worst of winter. These, however, were the ones that mothers told their children to scare them into doing their chores, and the ones that fathers were always on the lookout for. **

** In the native tongue, they are called Tyr'vu: the Tyrant Wolf. Abnormally large beasts that over the years had develop an addiction to human flesh. Jake had grown up with the stories of the sheer terror these monsters induced. Stories of how entire towns had been wiped off the face of the map in a single night and of the bones of countless hunters found stripped clean. All of these memories rushed through his mind as they drew nearer.**

** With a great burst of strength, he heaved Amy onto solid ground and in an instant drew his stalker rifle. First he fired a round into the air with his Scholfield, hoping that the sound would be more than enough to scare them away. It did not. Instead it even galvanized them to run even faster. He holstered his revolver and then took aim at the horde fast approaching.**

** Amy took the first shot with her No.1, and her round **_**zipped **_**through the cold air like a thunderbolt that smashed into a beast on the left. The round slammed below the throat and just below what would have been the armpit of the mongrel. To her very human horror, the monster shook it off and kept running. Jake started firing his weapon at a rate almost inhuman for a bolt action, falling into a rapid repetition of taking aim, firing and rebolting. His weapon had a capacity of five rounds, two of which he spent in the cow behind him.**

** One round went high and skinned the back of the rearguard creature. Another had been a far more fortunate result, impacting right between the eyes. His last round he knew should have killed the monster, impacting right in the center of the chest. It shrugged it off and kept running. **

_**"Fucking Hell." **_**He cursed. Now they had closed to under forty yards and he could now see the creatures clearly. They were all black coated, with the exception of their Alpha who was as pure in color that he blended in with the snow, distinguished only by the glare of crimson orbs that blazed with primal hate; the wounds inflicted oozing with bright red that made the Tyr even further demon like. Now he could see the creature's abnormal fangs, which looked more like full blade knives than teeth, and that frothed with the thought of man-flesh. But what amazed him even more was the sheer the size of the Tyr, which closed with the size of a small bear!**

** He remembered what his father had always called them, in a language so foreign that he had trouble pronouncing it:**

_**"Hollenhund." **_

**Amy had reloaded her weapon twice by the time they closed in, and managed to gun down another creature. Jake drew his Scholfield with one hand and his blade with the other, and prepared for his last stand.**

_**"Arrroooooo!"**_

** This sound was alien, encountered prior only by one. And He recognized its origins, he but could not believe it. But then any doubts that he had had were as quickly dashed as the sudden shade of black and white that literally exploded through a shower of imploded snow that streaked the place with a sudden snowfall. And when it landed, its appearance stunned all but again save one. To Jake, he was not stunned into total inaction, rather utterly mystified by the beast that stood like a dam between man and animal that lead him to utter a single word:**

_**"Bandit?"**_

**The dog paused in recognition of his name, and turned his head to gaze at the speaker. And Jake knew he was right. The dog was about two and half feet high, and five feet long from head to tail with black and white fur that hid his many years honed fighting body, and the scars that told of the many terrible battles he had survived. All of this came to a conclusion in the form of a mask of black fur that surrounded eyes whose irises were so crimson that they matched the monsters he stood ready to fight. His eyes lightened, its snot creased in pleasure as its tail started to wag slowly. **

** Then it turned, ever so slowly; its jowls rising in rhythm to reveal its long row of white fangs as its eyes narrowed upon the pack before him. Slowly, he started to pace, back and forth as though to form a line not to be crossed. The hellhounds seemed utterly stupefied by this strange contender's wish to fight, save for the white coat. He stepped forward, and barred his sword teeth. The two locked eyes; neither even considering the choice of retreat, and began to close in. **

** They half-circled: Bandit careful to keep his man-brother to his back, watching so carefully the tensing of muscle in the neck of his opponent. He did not fear this creature, instead saw him as something for him to rend and obliterate. The Tyr'vu was bigger than he was; easily topping his hundred pound weight twice. But Bandit was older, an experienced fighting dog. He saw his opponent as a scum lower than vermin who lack the honor of a proper hunter. And his instinctual desire was to destroy it. **

** The dog took a half step, and then lunged a foot forward; causing the Tyr'vu to scuttle back a yard. Then they began a game of dare; constantly charging forward then retreating slightly, slowly pushing one and the other back and forth. To an onlooker, this would have been an absolutely strange occurrence. Then Jake saw his dog's eye constantly darting to the stake pit, and he knew what he was trying to do. As such, Jake slowly began sliding away from the pit; giving Bandit the opening he needed.**

** Then Bandit shifted for too long to right, exposing its hind quarters. The White Wolf took the bait, lunging to get its oversized fangs into the stupid challenger and devour him. Bandit dove to the left then pulled a full circle in the process, then lunged at the Wolfs one vital weakness: its throat. He pounced; his powerful jaws slamming his teeth into the flesh and bone like a steel clamp. He threw his weight into the attack, throwing the Tyr'vu off balance and toppling over. **

** He followed through the motion, refusing to let go even as the Wolf started flinging the dog around. Then the Wolf allowed its own momentum to carry Bandit up and over, dislodging his hold. As he flew through the air, Bandit righted himself immediately as he hit the ground on all four paws. The Wolf immediately pounced, but Bandit hit the dive first. He sunk his teeth over the Wolf's snout, boring through the nasal cavity. **

** Jake saw his opportunity and raised his Scholfield upon the pack leader. But as he did so, Amy immediately recognized the danger of this when the surviving wolves started to growl. She immediately stopped Jake from firing, knowing that if he was to intervene in the fight it would mean death for them all. Jake glared angrily at her, but she knew she had done the right thing. The dog was going to have to win this one on its own.**

** Now Bandit moved up the face, sinking his teeth right into the side of the face and proceeding to rip off flesh and fur at a vicious rate. Then the Wolf firmly jerked away from him, causing the White Wolf to lose its ear and half of its face, but causing Bandit to lose his grip. The White Tyr'vu was horribly disfigured, with entire sections of skin and fur completely removed leaving behind raw, weeping wounds that flooded with bright blood that stained its coat. **

** If Bandit could, he would have smirked in utter satisfaction. The White Wolf, despite its power and monstrosity, lacked any form or discipline. The Fighting Dog took utter enjoyment in killing the beast. The White Tyr'vu was in utter pain however, its mind practically a lake of continuous, ever consuming fire. But through the insanity inflicting pain, its mind uttered a single, ever overriding command: attack!**

** It moved faster than anything Bandit had ever experienced before. There was no possible speed he could muster to outrun this bull-on-loose ferocity. Instead, he moved his shoulder forward to protect his throat and took the full impact of the beast's teeth. However, the creature's inexperience played through once more. Instead of just shredding the flesh, tendons and bone over and over again like a shark, the creature just clamped its jaws on its shoulder blade. **

** Though the pain was excruciating, Bandit knew what he had to do. He struggled to the left, slowly edging the beast to the pit. Then he jerked low to the ground with sudden force, bringing the Wolf down with it! Then, once the Wolf's jaws unclenched, he proceeded to tackle the brute right over the edge. The sickening **_**sheeck **_**confirmed what they all knew.**

** And with that, Bandit turned slowly, with all the wrath of a angry god, and howled with terrifying power. And as the Wolves trembled in fear, they all heard the sound of the hunting dogs closing fast. They bolted, but in the matter of a minute the hunting dogs tore into them and ripped them apart. As he watched the spectacle, Bandit slumped to the floor, his energy eaten away as blood started to drain from the bit on his shoulder. Jake immediately rush forward and caught the dog in his arms, their eyes meeting in a sign of brotherly affection. **

** And even with the bustling of armed men about, this moment was only broken when Bandit licked his face:**

_**"Ah, Bandit!" **_**he exclaimed laughing, wiping away the mark with his glove, **_**"You know that freezes over."**_

**If the dog could, he would have smiled.**

_**"You know this little furry badass here? Who is he?" **_**Amy inquired, rubbing her fingers through the crown fur and scratching behind his ear.**

_**"He's mine. But what the hell are you doing here?"**_

* * *

><p><em>Entry #41<em>

_Somebody's out to get me. That much is clear. That trap, the wolves, the fact that that deer was used as bait for said trap? None of this is a coincidence._

_None of it._

_And what further complicates things is Bandit. That old, loveable fleabag has been with me sense I was a babe. I guess he really is my adopted brother. _

_But when dad left the homestead back in October, he took Bandit with him. And I know him; he would never leave Dad's side. But here he is, out here with me. So what does that mean?_

_Simmons took a look at him, and patched up his shoulder. _

_ "Dogs a fightin' hound," he told me," See the wound on his shoulder? Only happens if it was positioned properly."_

_I asked him what that meant. He told me that the wolf's blow was aimed for his throat, and that the bite radius was over the strongest section of bone on the shoulder. In short, he said that he should heal up perfectly, just as long as he doesn't do anymore fighting for a couple of weeks._

_Funny enough, Bandit whined at that…_

_Edwin is furious. He wants the mole's blood probably just as much as Maq. Maybe even more, I don't know. _

_And as it turns out, that pit is old. Meaning it goes back even further than the years before the Last Great War; to like ancient times. That means whoever set that trap had to know where it was prior to this, and Edwin's Caravan has always come through this land for the Elk that travel through here. It means the Mole was responsible for this, and it means he (or maybe she) had to be on this group for over a year._

_But things are clear. That trap was meant for me._

_That means we have a way to catch this slippery bastard…_

* * *

><p><strong>The night air was cold and dry, the camp as silent as the grave. No cooking fires were permitted that night; the guards nervously checking the actions of their M-16's and XCR-M's as their eyes scanned the darkened perimeter of the camp. But what they did not know was the threat to them all was not external. Within the bowls of the campsite, the shadow of an assassin stepped from the darkness and into the light. He watched the inactivity, and decided to make his move.<strong>

** He darted from to tent, his steps made with great effort to be noiseless. Even his breathe was soft in tone, hardy indistinguishable from the midnight chill. It was with this skill that he had honed in the old expanse of Siberia that could have enabled him to provide for any in this tent city a permanent sleep. His target, however, was very specific. And one that had proved especially difficult to kill.**

** He had taken great efforts to stage the perfect murder. Finding that spike pit, dragging that cow as bait, and then attracting a horde of Tyr'vu to ensure that there would be no survivors: had all be wasted by bad luck. It had frustrated him to no extent. He knew that he could no longer afford to be clever; he had to finish this tonight. Any longer, he knew, and they would find him.**

** He slid noiselessly through the heart of the tents, and then closed in on one to his immediate right. He tip-toed cautiously towards, entering and drew a silenced Makarov. There, directly in front of him was his target; sleeping aimlessly. But he had to be sure, he edged closer and closer. So close in fact, that he could have easily have snatched the covers from the sleeping man. But something felt absolutely wrong.**

** And then he realized it:**

_**"Too easy." **_**He mouthed. But before he could draw away, a great shadowed shape suddenly took complete coverage of his vision as it leapt in the air. It pounced upon him, sending him to the floor, his hand banging against the cold ground and sending the Makarov skidding away from any possible reach. Utter terror took hold of him as he felt hot, hissing breath on his face and red, laminating eyes staring back at him… with an utter intent to eviscerate him.**

_**"I wouldn't even move if I was you," **_**Jake rose slowly from his cot, his Scholfield held firm in hand, **_**"he butchered the Alpha Tyr'vu you sent to kill me. What chance do you have then, eh?"**_

** As if on cue, Edwin and Shepherds stepped into the tent, both armed with Automatic Rifles fully intent on ripping him apart.**

_**"Mar Griffon, isn't it?" **_**Shepherds asked scornfully, kneeling to bring his face close to assassins, **_**"of course, that's not your real name is it?"**_

_** "Yes it is!" **_**He cried out desperately."**

_**"Don't lie!" **_**Edwin growled. As if on cue, Bandit bit into the man's arm. He screamed in pain for exactly five seconds, before he called to stop.**

_**"Bandit, heel!" **_**Jake ordered, and the dog reluctantly stopped.**

_**"Dmitri… my name is Dmitri."**_

_** "Dmitri, huh?" **_**Edwin questioned, proceeding to grab a handfull of the man's hair, **_**"You a Red, Dmitri? Are you!?" **_

**Bandit drew closer again, and Dmitri replied quickly. And as he did, his carefully cultivated accent deteriorated to his native tongue:**

_**"Da! Da!"**_

_** "What the hell are the Red's doing with Dugan Blood-gull!? Speak!"**_

_** "We… want him."**_

**All eyes went to Jake. **

_**"Me? Why do you want me?! Why did you try to kill me?!"**_

_** "You don't know?"**_

**Dmitri was now completely confused. Azazel had told him that the boy knew. And yet he didn't. However, the dog sitting atop of him interrupted his thoughts with a very dangerous growl:**

_**"We want you… because we want your father."**_

_** "How do you know my father!?" **_** Jake screamed at him, coming dangerously close to wanting to kill him. Shepherds halted him before he could do so.**

_**"How many more of you are there?" **_**Edwin inquired, drawing close to the man, **_**"How long have you been in my camp?"**_

_** "I can't gah!" **_

_** "Bandit, heel!"**_

_** "Please! There are only two of us. I've been with you since last winter!"**_

_** "And who's the other man?"**_

_** "Azazel."**_

**The name shocked Edwin. It drew Shepherds aback. And at the sign of their fear, Dmitri continued to revel in it:**

_**"And when he finds out that you have me, he's going kill you all… slowly and in every way you fear."**_

_** "I don't understand," **_**Jake interrupted, **_**"who's this Azazel? And what the hell is a Red?"**_

_** "Outside, Jake."**_

_** "But—"**_

_** "Outside! Now!"**_

**Reluctantly, Jake obeyed. Bandit peered briefly at him, then returned his gaze at his prisoner. **

_**"So Dmitri," **_**Edwin continued, **_**"why Jake? And why Benton?"**_

_** "I do not know!"**_

_** "Bandit…"**_

_** "No I swear I do not know! I was to kill Jake because he did not know where he is! Please, I beg you!"**_

_** "I believe you."**_

_** "Edwin…"**_

_** "But it will not save you."**_

_** "But I—"**_

_** "That trap you created to kill the boy? My daughter was caught in it too. Didn't even know that did you?"**_

_** "Please!"**_

_** "Bandit, Kill."**_

_** "Nooo—agghress!"**_

**And with that, the scream died.**


End file.
